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littp://www.arcli  ive.org/details/diamondnecklaceOOcarliala 


Efte  5tut(ents'  Series  of  Enslisfj  Classics, 


To  furnish  the  educational  public  with  well-edited  editions  of 
those  authors  used  in,  or  required  for  admission  to,  many  of 
the  colleges,  the  publishers  annoimce  this  new  series.  The  fol- 
lowing books  are  noio  ready : 

Coleridge's  Ancient  Mariner,  80  ctB. 

A  Ballad  Book 54  . . 

Edited  by  ELathakine  Leb  Bates,  Wellesley  College. 

Matthew  Arnold's  Sohrab  and  Bustum,  30 

Webster's  First  Bunker  Hill  Oration,  30 

Edited  by  Louise  Manning  Hodgkins. 

Introduction  to  the  Writings  of  John  Suskin,  .  54 

Macaulay's  Essay  on  Lord  Clive,        ...  42 

Edited  by  Vida  D.  Scudder,  Wellesley  College. 

George  Eliot's  Silas  Mamer,  42 

Scott's  Marmion,  .  42 

Edited  by  Mary  Harriott  Norris,  Instructor,  New  York. 

Sir  Soger  de  Coverley  Papers  from  The  Spectator,    .  42 
Edited  by  A.  S.  Roe,  Worcester,  Mass. 

Macaulay's  Second  Essay  on  the  Earl  of  Chatham,    .  42 

Edited  by  W.  W.  Curtis,  High  School,  Pawtucket,  R.I. 
Johnson's  History  of  Basselas 42 

Edited  by  Fred  N.  Scott,  University  of  Michigan. 

Joan  of  Arc  and  Other  Selections  from  De  Quincey,   .  42 

Edited  by  Henry  H.  Belfield,  Chicago  Manual  Training  School. 

Carlyle's  The  Diamond  Necklace, 42 

Edited  by  W.  F.  Mozier,  High  School,  Ottawa,  111. 

Several  others  are  in  preparation,  and  all  are  substantially  bound 
in  cloth. 

LEAOH,  SHEWELL,  &  SANBOM,  Publishers, 

BOSTON,  NEW  YORK,  and  CHICAGO. 


THE 

DIAMOND  NECKLACE. 


BY 


THOMAS    OARLYLE. 


EDITED,  WITH  INTRODUCTION  AND  NOTES, 

BY 

W.   F.    MOZIER, 
Ottawa  (III.)  Township  High  School. 


LEACH,  SHEWELL,  &  SANBORN, 

Boston  and  New  York. 


Copyright,  1692,  bt 

W.  F.  MOZIER. 


C.  J.  PETERS  &  SON, 
Typographers  and  Electrotyper*. 


Press  of  Berwick  &  Smith. 


PREFACE 


The  study  of  Carlyle  may  be  undertaken  with  profit 
in  the  advanced  classes  of  high  schools,  academies,  and 
preparatory  schools.  While  students  are  to  be  warned 
against  the  peculiarities  and  even  barbarisms  of  his 
style,  they  may  still  derive  much  benefit  from  the  origi- 
nality, force,  and  suggestiveness  of  his  thought.  After 
Shakspeare,  Carlyle  of  all  English  writers  furnishes  the 
most  abundant  material  for  thought  analysis. 

The  "  Diamond  Necklace  "  has  been  selected  for  anno- 
tation in  preference  to  the  more  commonly  read  essays, 
for  several  reasons.  It  presents  specimens  of  all  of 
Carlyle's  varied  styles  :  essay,  narrative,  dramatic,  and 
descriptive.  It  is,  in  miniature,  a  work  of  the  same 
character  as  the  "French  Kevolution,"  Carlyle's  most 
artistic  production,  and  has  all  the  peculiarities,  both 
faulty  and  beautiful,  of  that  work.  It  is  short  and 
interesting,  and  experience  with  it  in  the  class-room  has 
demonstrated  the  advantages  of  studying  it.     Froude, 

in  his  life  of  Carlyle,  writes :  "  The  '  Diamond  Neck- 

iii 


iv  PREFACE. 

lace '  ...  in  my  opinion,  is  the  very  finest  illustration 
of  Carlyle's  literary  power."  Kichard  Garnett  calls  it 
"a  masterpiece  of  tragi-comedy  in  narrative,  proving 
that  he  had  all  the  power  needful  for  the  dramatic 
treatment  of  history." 

Of  course  the  brief  biographical  sketch  introducing 
this  work  does  not  lay  claim  to  completeness  or  special 
originality.  The  student  is  referred  to  the  best  sources 
of  information  about  Carlyle  in  the  "Bibliography." 
Numerous  notes  are  necessary  to  explain  Carlyle,  be- 
cause of  his  figurative  style,  and  the  large  number  of 
obscure  allusions  found  in  his  writings. 

The  introductory  "  Method  of  Study  "  is  intended  to 

be   suggestive   merely.      Each  teacher,  and  even   each 

pupil  to  a  certain   extent,  must  be  allowed  to  do  his 

work  in  his  own  way. 

W.   F.   MOZIEB. 

Ottawa,  III.,  Sept.  1,  1892. 


CONTENTS. 


PAOB 

Preface iii 

Introduction 1 

Thomas  Carlyle 1 

Early  Life 1 

Mrs.  Carlyle  and  the  Carlyles'  Married  Life     .  6 

Life  at  Craigenpdttock,  1828-1834 9 

The  Diamond  Necklace 12 

Life  in  London,  1834-1881 13 

Portrait  and  Character 17 

Teachings  and  Influence 18 

Literary  Style      20 

Bibliography 21 

Chronological  Outline 23 

Method  of  Study 26 

The  Affair  of  the  Diamond  Necklace 27 

Summary  of  Contents 31 

The  Diamond  Necklace 37 

Notes 141 


INTRODUCTION. 


THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

EARLY   LIFE. 

On  the  5th  of  October,  1795,  the  "whiff  of  grapeshot" 
from  the  guns  of  Napoleon  silenced  the  French  Revolution. 
The  long  agony  of  anarchy  ceased, — to  be  followed  by  a 
military  despotism,  twenty  years  of  devastating  war,  the 
downfall  of  Napoleon,  and  a  reaction  against  the  principles  of 
the  Revolution.  Blasted  hopes,  shattered  dreams  of  an  ideal 
democracy,  misery,  poverty,  exhaustion,  discontent,  despaii", 
blind  gropings  after  better  things,  misdirected  or  hypocritical 
attempts  at  reform,  characterized  the  social,  political,  and 
spiritual  life  of  Europe  in  the  quarter  of  a  century  that  fol- 
lowed. In  the  midst  of  these  times  and  conditions  was  born 
and  gi'ew  to  manhood  the  historian  and  essayist  who  was  to 
describe  them  in  language  of  fire ;  the  seer  and  prophet  who 
was  to  bewail  the  degeneracy  of  his  age,  and  draw  therefrom 
the  lessons  of  human  life. 

Thomas  Carlyle  was  born  in  the  small  village  of  Eccle- 
fechan,  Annandale,  in  the  county  of  Dumfries,  Scotland,  on 
the  4th  of  December,  1795.  Althougli  at  one  time  he 
wished  no  biography  of  himself  to  be  written,  there  is  no 
author  whose  private  or  public  life  is  more  minutely  known. 
Soon  after  his  death,  his  executor,  James  Anthony  Froude, 

1 


2  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

published  his  correspondence  and  journal,  his  "Reminis- 
cences," written  only  for  his  own  private  inspection,  and  the 
letters  and  journal  of  Mrs.  Carlyle.  Carlyle  had  not  been  cer- 
tain that  he  wanted  any  of  these  published  ;  certainly  he  did 
not  want  them  published  without  revision.  lie  died  without 
having  revised  them,  leaving  the  question  of  their  publication 
to  the  discretion  of  his  executor.  This  executor,  ]Mr.  Froude, 
published  them  with  practically  no  revision.  Hence  we  have 
a  picture  of  Carlyle  in  all  his  moods,  and  the  most  secret 
thoughts,  feelings,  opinions,  and  incidents  of  his  life  are  ex- 
posed to  public  gaze.  This  is  very  interesting,  and  undoubt- 
edly gives  a  complete  photograph  of  the  man.  Every  one, 
however,  has  private  opinions,  states  of  mind,  and  freaks  of 
conduct  that  should  be  regarded  as  exempt  from  publication 
to  the  world,  and  it  is  unfair  to  the  memory  of  a  great  man  to 
make  mankind  in  general  as  intimately  acquainted  with  him  as 
is  his  valet,  to  whom,  as  the  proverb  goes,  no  man  is  a  hero. 
Perhaps  an  interesting  life  of  our  author  could  not  have  been 
written  in  any  other  way,  for  as  far  as  external  occurrences  go 
his  life  was  uneventful.  It  was  devoted  to  literature  entirely. 
He  lived  quietly,  as  a  writer  of  books,  first  at  Craigenputtoch, 
and  then  at  London,  with  nothing  to  disturb  him  save  the  gen- 
eral degeneracy  of  the  times  —  upon  which  he  pours  forth  the 
torrents  of  his  wrath  —  and  his  neighbors'  cats  and  chickens, 
which  excited  his  anger  no  less,  perhaps  even  more. 

The  birth  of  the  man  who  was  to  occupy  the  high  position  of 
•'  censor  of  the  age  "  was  humble.  His  father,  James  Carlyle, 
was  a  village  mason.  "  A  more  remarkable  man  than  my 
father,"  says  Carlyle,  "  I  have  never  met  in  my  journey 
through  life;  sterling  sincerity  in  thought,  word,  and  deed; 
most  quiet,  but  capable  of  blazing  into  whirlwinds  when  need- 
ful, and  such  a  flash  of  just  insight  and  brief  natural  eloquence 
and  emphasis."    Both  his  father  and  his  mother  were  persons 


INTRODUCTION.  3 

.of  great  force  of  character  and  natural  strength  of  mind,  though 
neither  was  cultured  in  books.  They  were  simple,  upright, 
self-reliant,  deeply  religious  people.  "  No  man  of  my  day,  or 
hardly  any  man,  can  have  had  better  parents,"  wrote  their  son. 
Carlyle's  family  and  family  life  were  always  dear  to  him.  He 
constantly  wrote  to  the  different  members,  especially  to  his 
mother,  and  remembered  them  with  presents  and  financial  aid. 
Although  he  had  a  cynical  bearing  toward  most  men,  for  his 
father  and  his  mother,  his  three  brothers  and  his  five  sisters, 
he  had  only  the  most  thoughtful  consideration.  His  deep  love 
for  his  family  is  one  of  the  striking  elements  of  his  character. 

The  youthful  Thomas  learned  reading  from  his  mother,  and 
arithmetic  from  his  father.  He  attended  the  village  school, 
where  he  was  reported  "complete  in  English"  at  the  age  of 
seven.  Latin  he  learned  of  the  village  minister.  When  he  was 
ten  years  old,  he  was  sent  to  the  Grammar  School  at  Annan, 
where  he  learned  French,  Latin,  a  little  algebra  and  geometry, 
and  geography.  In  "Sartor  Resartus,"  where  the  history  of 
Teufelsdroeckh  is  partly  autobiographical,  Carlyle  tells  of  his 
hopeful  entrance  into  Annan  and  of  his  disagreeable  experi- 
ences there. 

Li  November,  1809,  when  he  was  not  yet  fourteen,  he  en- 
tered Edinburgh  University,  expecting  in  time  to  enter  the 
ministry.  He  walked  the  eighty  miles  from  Ecclefechan  to 
Edinburgh.  Here  he  made  some  progi-ess  in  Latin  and  Greek ; 
he  hated  philosophy,  but  studied  mathematics  with  enthusiasm. 
He  did  not  win  any  pi'izes,  owing,  probably,  to  a  certain  diflB[- 
dence.  His  most  valuable  experience  at  the  university  was 
the  companionship  of  a  few  chosen  friends,  of  whom  he  was 
the  leader.  They  all  prophesied  futm*e  greatness  for  him. 
Like  Macaulay  and  other  men  of  literature,  he  devoted  more 
time  to  general  reading  in  the  university  library  than  to  the 
studies  of  the  curriculum.    In  "  Sartor  Resartus  "  he  writes: 


4  THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

"I  took  less  to  rioting  than  to  thinking  and  reading,  which 
latter  also  I  was  free  to  do.  Nay,  from  the  chaos  of  that 
library  I  succeeded  in  fishing  up  more  books  than  had  been 
known  to  the  keeper  thereof.  The  foundation  of  a  literary 
life  was  hereby  laid.  I  learned  in  my  own  strength  to  read 
fluently  in  almost  all  cultivated  languages,  on  almost  all  sub- 
jects and  sciences.  A  certain  ground-plan  of  human  natui-e 
and  life  began  to  fashion  itself  in  me,  by  additional  experi- 
ments to  be  corrected  and  indefinitely  extended." 

In  1814,  having  completed  the  usual  course  in  aiis,  Carlyle 
quitted  Edinburgh,  with  the  intention  of  earning  his  living  by 
teaching  until  his  ordination  into  the  ministry.  The  next  four 
years  of  his  life  were  spent  in  school  work,  fii'st  as  mathemati- 
cal teacher  in  the  burgh  school  of  Annan,  afterwards  in  a 
somewhat  similar  position  at  Kirkaldy.  The  work  of  school 
teaching  was  distasteful  to  him.  His  reserved,  impatient,  and 
irritable  temperament  and  his  sarcastic  speech  were  not  suited 
to  the  work.  He  was  neither  very  popular  in  the  village  nor 
very  successful  in  teaching,  though  he  kept  his  pupils  in  awe 
without  the  necessity  of  flogging  them.  During  these  years 
he  made  the  acquaintance  of  Edward  Irving,  afterward  the 
noted  minister  and  orator,  and  of  Margaret  Gordon,  the  origi- 
nal of  "  Blumine"  in  "  Sartor  Resartus,"  with  whom  he  fell  in 
love.  His  holidays  were  spent  at  Mainhill,  a  farm  two  miles 
from  Ecclefechan,  to  which  his  father  had  now  removed. 

In  1818  he  resigned  his  position  at  Kirkaldy,  and  having 
now  given  up  the  idea  of  the  ministry,  went  to  Edinburgh  to 
attend  law  lectures.  Then  followed  what  he  calls  •'  the  three 
most  miserable  years  "  of  his  life.  His  studies  at  Edinburgh, 
his  in-egular  meals  and  long  fasts  had  brought  on  dyspepsia, 
from  which  he  was  now,  and  continued  to  be  to  the  end  of  his 
life,  a  constant  sufferer.  "The  cursed  hag,  dyspepsia,"  he 
calls  it.     "A  rat  was  gnawing  at  the  pit  of  his  stomach." 


INTRODUCTION.  6 

This  made  him  irritable,  nervous,  and  unhappy,  and  his  exag- 
gerated invectives  against  the  disorder,  in  his  letters  home, 
often  needlessly  frightened  the  good  people  on  the  farm.  In 
these  yeai's,  too,  he  was  clouded  with  doubt  and  disbelief  in 
the  religion  of  his  father.  Over  these  doubts  he  suffered 
much  anguish  of  mind,  and  finally  when  the  crisis  came,  after 
"three  weeks  of  total  sleeplessness'''  he  found  peace.  While 
he  was  attending  the  law  lectures  he  tried  to  make  a  living  by 
teaching  a  few  pupils  and  by  writing  articles  for  Brewster's 
"  Edinburgh  Encyclopaedia,"  sixteen  articles  in  all.  He  was 
aided  constantly  by  the  sympathy  and  assistance  of  his  family. 
During  these  years  he  read  much  in  the  university  library, 
and  diligently  studied  German,  which  was  to  have  so  impor- 
tant an  influence  on  his  thought  and  his  style.  His  favorite 
author  was  Goethe,  who  seems  to  have  been  of  great  help  to 
his  spiritual  life.  Carlyle  had  given  up  the  study  of  law  as 
distasteful,  and  was  again  at  sea  as  to  his  life-work.  Yet  he 
seems  to  have  felt  that  there  was  something  within  him  of 
worth,  and  that  ultimately  it  must  find  expression  in  literature. 
As  early  as  1814  he  had  written  to  a  friend:  "  Yet  think  not 
I  am  careless  of  literary  fame.  No  ;  Heaven  knows  that  ever 
since  I  have  been  able  to  form  a  wish,  the  wish  of  being 
known  has  been  foremost.  O  Fortune !  thou  that  givest  unto 
each  his  portion  in  this  dirty  planet,  bestow  (if  it  shall  please 
thee)  coronets,  and  crowns,  and  principalities,  and  purses, 
and  pudding,  and  powers  upon  the  great  and  noble  and  fat 
ones  of  the  earth.  Grant  me  that  with  a  heart  of  independ- 
ence, unyielding  to  thy  favors  and  unbending  to  thy  frowns, 
I  may  attain  to  literary  fame ;  and  though  starvation  be  my 
lot,  I  will  smile  that  I  have  not  been  born  a  king."  Those 
who  knew  him,  even  in  these  obscure  days,  felt  that  there 
was  genius  there.  One  of  his  friends  writes,  "I  hope  that 
the  name  of  Carlyle,  at  least,  will  be  inseparably  connected 


6  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

with  the  literary  history  of  the  nineteenth  centuiy."  Miss 
Gordon  had  written,  "  Genius  will  render  you  great."  Irving 
wrote  in  1820,  "  Would  that  I  could  contribute  to  it  [Carlyle's 
happiness] ,  and  one  of  the  richest  and  most  powerful  minds 
I  know  should  not  now  be  struggling  with  obscurity  and  a 
thousand  obstacles." 

From  the  gloom  and  poverty  of  these  Edinburgh  experi- 
ences, Irving  rescued  him  by  securing  for  him  a  position  a3 
private  tutor  to  the  children  of  the  Bullers,  a  rich  Anglo-Indian 
family.  He  held  this  position  for  two  yeai's,  giving  it  up  early 
in  1824.  He  then  visited  London  and  other  cities  of  England, 
and  made  a  trip  to  Paris,  where  he  unconsciously  gathered 
impressions  for  his  "  French  Revolution."  During  the  years 
1823-24  he  had  contributed  a  "  Life  of  Schiller"  to  the  Lon- 
don Magazine,  and  in  1824  a  translation  of  "  Legendre's  Geom- 
etiy,"  with  an  original  essay  on  "Proportion."  In  the  same 
year  appeared  his  translation  of  Goethe's  "  Wilhelm  Meister," 
his  first  notable  work.  A  somewhat  unsettled  life  at  Hoddam 
Hill  and  at  his  father's  new  farm  at  Scotsbrig  was  changed 
now  by  his  mamage  to  Miss  Welsh,  of  Haddington. 

MES.    CAKLYLE   AND   THE   CARLTLES'   MARRIED   LIFE. 

Jane  Baillie  Welsh  was  bom  at  Haddington,  July  14,  1801. 
Her  father.  Dr.  John  Welsh,  was  a  prosperous  and  cultured 
gentleman,  a  descendant  of  John  Knox.  Her  mother  was  said 
to  be  a  descendant  of  William  Wallace.  Jane  was  a  bright, 
witty,  lovable,  determined  little  maiden.  She  learned  rap- 
idly at  school,  and  insisted  on  studying  Latin  "  like  a  boy." 
"  Jeannie  Welsh,  the  flower  of  Haddington,"  she  was  called. 
She  was  in  many  ways  a  remarkable  woman.  She  had  a  fine 
mind,  and  had  cultivated  it  to  no  little  extent.  A  certain  wil- 
fulness and  capriciousness,  together  with  a  habit  of  brilliant 
but  sharp  comment  upon  unpleasant  persons  and  things,  which 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

increased  after  her  association  with  Carlyle,  added  piquancy 
to  her  character.  She  had  been  introduced  to  Carlyle  in  1821 
by  Irving.  Irving  had  been  her  teacher,  and  in  time  their 
intimacy  grew  into  a  hope  that  they  might  maiTy.  This  was 
prevented,  however,  by  Irving's  pi'cvious  engagement  to 
a  Miss  Martin,  from  which,  though  now  distasteful  to  Irving, 
Miss  Martin  refused  to  release  him.  Carlyle  corresponded 
with  Miss  Welsh  and  sent  her  books.  This  intimacy  soon 
grew  into  love  on  Carlyle's  part,  and  though  Miss  Welsh 
thought  at  first  she  could  not  love  him  sufficiently  to  marry 
him,  she  had  great  respect  and  admiration  for  him,  and  these 
finally  developed  into  a  feeling  that  she  could  marry  no  one 
else.     They  were  married  at  Haddington,  Oct.  17,  1826. 

The  publication  of  Mrs.  Carlyle's  letters  and  journal  has  ex- 
posed all  the  secret  troubles  of  their  married  life,  and  has  made 
it  impossible  to  give  a  sketch  of  Carlyle's  life  and  character 
without  considering,  in  some  detail,  the  character  of  Mrs.  Car- 
lyle, and  of  the  married  life  of  the  Carlyles.  In  these  letters 
Mrs.  Carlyle  complains  bitterly  of  her  lot.  After  forty  years 
of  maiTied  life  she  said,  "  My  dear,  whatever  you  do,  never 
marry  a  man  of  genius."  She  is  reported  to  have  said,  "I 
married  for  ambition,  and  am  miserable."  It  seems  that  Car- 
lyle and  his  wife  were,  in  a  sense,  unsuited  to  each  other.  Un- 
doubtedly each  loved  the  other,  yet  neither  had  the  ability  to 
call  out  the  expression  of  that  love  fi-om  the  other.  Carlyle 
was  absorbed  in  his  work,  and  paid  little  attention  to  his  wife, 
leaving  her  to  do  the  menial  work  of  the  household,  the 
managing  of  servants,  the  mending,  the  cleaning.  He  had 
his  sphere  of  literary  composition,  where,  solitary  and  com- 
plaining, he  struggled  with  sublime  thoughts ;  she  had  her 
sphere  of  domestic  duties,  where,  solitary  and  complaining, 
she  struggled  with  servants,  with  cooking,  with  house  vermin. 
She  was  undoubtedly  fitted  for  better  things.    The  woman 


8  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

who  could  write  the  brilliant  letters  that  she  wrote  and  could 
daily  attract  to  her  drawing-room  the  wits  and  wise  men  of 
London,  must  necessarily  have  felt  the  drudgery  of  housework. 
Yet  she  had  a  kind  of  genius  for  it,  and  would  have  enjoyed 
it  had  her  husband  properly  appreciated  her  efforts.  All  her 
sacrifices  he  seemed  to  regard  as  a  matter  of  course,  her  duty, 
for  the  doing  of  which  no  thanks  were  expected.  She  did 
and  suffered  much,  that  he  might  live  quietly,  after  his  own 
peculiar  manner,  and  write  his  books  in  solitude.  She  shielded 
him  from  the  petty  annoyances  of  life.  His  dyspepsia  made 
him  very  particular  as  to  the  food  he  ate ;  she  learned  to  cook 
that  he  might  have  everything  to  his  taste.  He  was  instable 
and  violent  of  temper.  During  their  early  married  life,  meal- 
time brought  on  a  kind  of  nervous  terror  for  ^Irs.  Carlyle ; 
for  if  the  meal  was  cooked  properly  Carlyle  said  nothing,  but 
if  anything  was  under-done  or  over-done,  he  flew  into  a  rage. 
He  was  sensitive  to  noises ;  she  bribed,  wheedled,  begged, 
used  every  effort  to  suppress  neighboring  cocks  and  other 
nuisances.  While  Carlyle  looked  upon  these  acts  of  kindness 
as  a  matter  of  course,  it  was  not  because  he  did  not  love  his 
wife,  but  because  he  was  preoccupied  with  his  Avork,  and  was 
naturally  undemonstrative.  He  really  had  a  deep  affection 
for  her.  "  In  great  mattei's,"  she  says  herself,  "he  is  always 
kind  and  considerate;  but  these  little  attentions  which  we 
women  attach  so  much  impoitance  to  he  was  never  in  the  habit 
of  rendering  to  any  one." 

If  he  failed  in  attention  to  her  and  in  recognition  of  her  ser- 
vices to  him,  she  too  failed  as  an  ideal  companion.  She  did 
not  enter  sufficiently  into  his  work.  She  was  nervous,  iiTi- 
table,  and  sarcastic,  as  well  as  he.  Indeed,  one  cause  of  the 
unhappiness  of  their  married  life  was  that  they  were  too  much 
alike.  Yet  after  all  this  has  been  said,  their  letters  show  that 
they  had  much  pleasure  in  life.    It  was  only  after  Mrs.  Car- 


INTRODUCTION.  9 

lyle's  death,  when  he  came  to  look  over  her  letters  and  jour- 
nal, that  Carlyle  at  length  realized  the  unhappiness  he  had 
caused  her.  Then  his  remorse  was  heartrending,  and  his  ex- 
aggei-ated  imprecations  upon  himself  were  pitiable.  "Five 
minutes  more  of  your  dear  company  in  this  world,"  he  writes 
in  the  "  Reminiscences."  "  Oh,  that  I  had  you  yet  but  five  min- 
utes to  tell  you  all."  But  he  falls  back  in  despair,  with  the 
exclamation,  "Ah  me!  Too  late,  too  late."  To  the  world 
their  marriage  seemed  happy  enough,  until  the  published 
"Reminiscences"  and  letters  after  Carlyle's  death  told  all 
and  more  than  all. 

LIFE  AT  CRAIGENPUTTOCH,    182»-1834. 

After  their  marriage,  the  Carlyles  lived  for  two  years  at 
Comely  Bank,  Edinburgh,  where  they  made  the  acquaintance 
of  several  literary  people,  among  them  Jeffrey,  the  editor  of 
the  Edinburgh  Review,  who  accepted  Carlyle  as  a  contributor  to 
the  Review.  A  few  articles  on  German  literature  were  contrib- 
uted, but  the  need  of  money  and  the  necessity  of  living  cheaply 
became  so  pressing  that  it  was  decided,  much  against  Mrs. 
Cai'lyle's  inclinations,  to  remove  to  Ci'aigenputtoch,  a  farm 
belonging  to  Mrs.  Carlyle. 

They  went  to  this  place  in  May,  1828.  Craigenputtoch  was 
a  lonely  moorland  fai'm,  situated  sixteen  miles  from  Dumfries 
and  a  day's  journey  east  of  Ecclefechan.  "  The  dreariest  spot 
in  all  the  British  isles.  The  nearest  cottage  is  more  than  a 
mile  distant  fi-om  it ;  the  elevation,  seven  hundred  feet  above 
the  sea,  stunts  the  trees  and  limits  the  garden  produce  to  the 
hardiest  vegetables.  The  house  is  gaunt  and  hungry-looking. 
It  stood  with  the  scanty  fields  attached  as  an  island  in  a  sea 
of  morass.  The  landscape  is  unrelieved  either  by  grace  or 
grandeur,  mere  undulating  hills  of  grass  and  heather,  with 
peat  bogs  in  the  hollows  between  them.     A  sterner  spot  is 


10  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

hardly  to  be  found  in  Scotland."  (Froude's  Life  of  Carlyle.) 
For  months  at  a  time  the  Carlyles  had  no  visitors,  not  even  a 
passing  stranger.  Mrs.  Carlyle  said  the  moors  were  so  still 
that  she  could  hear  the  sheep  nibbling  the  grass  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  away.  Carlyle  called  it  "  a  devil's  den,"  and  a 
"blasted  paradise."  In  this  desolate  spot  the  Carlyles  lived 
for  six  years,  with  one  servant  and  an  occasional  boy  to  help 
them,  Carlyle  wrote  in  solitude,  wrestling  with  the  thoughts 
that  were  trying  to  find  expression,  often  taking  long  walks 
and  rides  on  the  moor,  alone.  Mrs.  Carlyle's  life  was  far  from 
pleasant.  Their  lack  of  money  and  Carlyle's  irritable  sensitive- 
ness to  household  disorder  compelled  her  to  cook,  scour,  mend, 
and  do  the  work  of  a  servant.  She  saw  too  little  of  her  hus- 
band, who  was  absorbed  in  his  work.  The  work  and  the  loneli- 
ness aflfected  her  health,  and  developed,  or  increased,  a  nervous 
disorder  from  which  she  was  never  afterward  free.  In  fact,  it 
finally  caused  her  death.  For  Carlyle,  however,  it  was  a  ben- 
eficial experience.  His  health  improved,  his  mind  strength- 
ened, his  genius  developed.  He  writes  in  the  "Reminis- 
cences : "  "  We  were  not  unhappy  at  Craigenputtoch ;  perhaps 
these  were  our  happiest  days.  Useful,  continual  labor,  essen- 
tially successful ;  that  makes  even  the  moor  gi'een.  I  found  I 
could  do  fully  twice  as  much  work  in  a  given  time  there,  as 
with  my  best  effort  was  possible  in  London,  such  the  interrup- 
tions, etc."  He  writes  to  his  brother  John  in  1828:  "  I  write 
hard  all  day,  and  then  Jane  and  I,  both  leaming  Spanish  for 
the  last  month,  read  a  chapter  of  Don  Quixote  between  dinner 
and  tea,  and  are  already  half  through  the  first  volume  and 
eager  to  persevere.  After  tea  I  sometimes  write  again,  being 
dreadfully  slow  at  the  business,  and  then  go  over  to  Alick  [his 
brother  who  was  working  the  farm]  and  Mary  and  smoke  my 
last  pipe  with  them ;  and  so  I  end  the  day,  having  done  little 
good  perhaps,  but  almost  no  ill  that  I  could  help  to  any  of 


INTRODUCTION.  11 

God's  creatures.  So  pass  my  days,  except  that  sometimes  I 
sti'oll  with  my  axe  or  bill  in  the  plantations,  and  when  I  am 
not  writing  I  am  reading." 

The  monotony  of  their  life  at  Craigenputtoch  was  vai'ied  by 
a  winter  spent  in  London  and  a  second  winter  in  Edinburgh. 
The  Jeffreys  came  to  visit  them  twice.  In  1833  the  Carlyles 
were  visited  by  Emerson,  who  had  turned  aside  from  the 
beaten  paths  of  travel  to  talk  with  a  man  whose  genius  he 
recognized,  though  it  was  not  yet  recognized  by  Carlyle's 
countrymen.  This  visit  of  Emerson  was  the  beginning  of  a 
close  friendship,  which  lasted  for  nearly  fifty  years,  the  cor- 
respondence of  Emerson  and  Carlyle  being  one  of  the  most 
cheerful  features  of  Carlyle's  life.  Emerson  afterward  acted 
as  Carlyle's  agent  in  America,  and  thus  helped  him  finan- 
cially at  a  time  when  he  had  great  need  of  such  help.  Life  at 
Craigenputtoch  was  enlivened  also  by  letters  and  presents  from 
Goethe,  who  appreciated  Carlyle's  work  in  German  literature 
and  perceived  his  genius.  During  the  six  years  at  Craigen- 
puttoch, Carlyle  contributed  to  the  Edinburgh  Review,  the 
Foreign  Review,  and  Frasefs  Magazine  the  articles  that  now 
form  the  first  three  volumes  of  his  "Miscellanies."  At  first 
they  were  chiefly  on  German  subjects,  with  the  exception  of  the 
essay  on  "Burns,"  one  of  Carlyle's  best ;  afterward  the  sub- 
jects were  more  varied.  Carlyle's  fortunes  had  many  "  ups 
and  downs  "  during  this  period.  In  1831  we  find  his  popular- 
ity on  the  decline,  and  Carlyle  with  only  five  pounds,  and  no 
more  expected  for  months.  He  had  devoted  much  of  his  time 
to  the  writing  of  "  Sartor  Resartus,"  and  this  the  publishers 
had  refused.  It  was  afterward  printed  in  Fraser's.  But  other 
articles  were  received,  and  fortune  revived  somewhat.  Car- 
lyle was  beginning  his  studies  of  the  French  Revolution,  with 
a  view  to  writing  on  that  subject.  Ready  access  to  a  large 
library  was  necessary,  and  it  was  finally  decided  to  remove  to 


12  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

London.      The  last  writing  of  Cariyle's  at  Craigenputtoch 
was 

THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE. 

In  1832  Carlyle  had  conti-ibuted  an  article  on  "  Diderot"  to 
the  Foreign  Quarterly.  This  had  excited  interest  in  the  French 
Revolution,  and  in  1833,  during  the  winter  spent  at  Edinburgh, 
he  had  collected  material  for  articles*  on  "  Cagliostro  "  and 
the  "Diamond  Necklace."  In  March,  1833,  he  writes  his 
brother:  "I  am  partly  minded  next  to  set  forth  some  small 
narrative  about  the  Diamond  Necklace,  once  so  celebrated  a 
business."  And  later :  "I  think  I  shall  fasten  upon  that  Neck- 
lace business  (to  prove  myself  in  the  narrative  style)  and 
commence  it  (sending  for  books  to  Edinburgh)  in  some  few 
days."  He  did  commence,  and  two  months  later,  Dec.  24, 
1833,  he  writes :  "  I  have  also,  with  an  effort,  accomplished 
the  projected  piece  on  the  Diamond  Necklace.  It  was  fin- 
ished this  day  week ;  really  a  queer  kind  of  thing,  of  some 
forty  and  odd  pages.  Jane  at  first  thought  we  should  print 
it  at  our  own  charges,  set  our  name  on  it,  and  send  it  out  in 
God's  name.  Neither  she  nor  I  are  now  so  sure  of  it,  but  will 
consider  it.  My  attempt  was  to  make  reality  ideal ;  there  is 
considerable  significance  in  that  notion  of  mine,  and  I  have 
not  yet  seen  the  limit  of  it,  nor  shall  till  I  have  tried  to  go  as 
far  as  it  will  carry  me.  The  story  of  the  Diamoiid  Necklace  is 
all  told  in  that  paper  wuth  the  strictest  fidelity,  yet  in  a  kind  of 
musical  way."  He  offered  the  article  to  the  Foreign  Quarterly, 
but  the  editor  refused  it.  Carlyle  himself  calls  it  "  a  singu- 
lar sort  of  thing,  which  is  very  far  from  pleasing  me."  He, 
however,  went  to  work  to  improve  it,  reading  new  books  on 
the  subject  and  making  additions ;  and  in  February,  1834,  we 
find  him  writing  in  his  journal,  "What  to  do  with  that  Dia- 
mond Necklace  aflfair  I  wrote  ?  must  correct  it  in  some  points 


INTRODUCTION.  18 

which  these  new  books  have  illuminated  a  little."  It  lay  thus 
awaiting  a  publisher  for  three  years,  but  was  finally  published 
in  Fraser's  Magazine,  in  the  spi-ing  of  1837,  a  few  months 
before  the  publication  of  the  "  French  Revolution."  It  earned 
Carlyle  little  fame  and  little  nione\',  and  is  not  so  famous  as 
many  of  his  other  works  even  now,  yet  it  is,  in  its  way,  one  of 
the  best  of  his  writings. 

LIFE  IN  LONDON,   1834-1881. 

TAe  Carlyles  arrived  in  London,  and  in  June,  1834,  began 
housekeeping  in  the  little  old-fashioned  house  at  No.  5  Cheyne 
Row,  Chelsea.  Carlyle  describes  it:  "  We  lie  safe  at  a  bend 
of  the  river,  away  from  all  the  great  roads,  have  air  and 
quiet  hardly  inferior  to  Craigenputtoch,  an  outlook  from  the 
back  windows  into  mere  leafy  regions  with  here  and  there  a 
red  high-peaked  old  roof  looking  through,  and  see  nothing  of 
London,  except  by  day  the  summits  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral 
and  Westminster  Abbey,  and  by  night  the  gleam  of  the  great 
Babylon  affronting  the  peaceful  skies.  The  house  itself  is 
probably  the  best  we  have  ever  lived  in  —  a  right  old,  strong, 
roomy,  brick  house,  built  near  150  years  ago,  and  likely  to 
see  three  races  of  these  modern  fashionables  fall  before  it 
comes  down.  .  .  .  Chelsea  is  a  singular  heterogeneous  kind 
of  spot,  very  dirty  and  confused  in  some  places,  quite  beauti- 
ful in  others,  abounding  with  antiquities  and  the  traces  of 
great  men  —  Sir  Thomas  More,  Steele,  Smollett,  etc."  In 
this  place  the  Carlyles  were  to  live  the  remainder  of  their 
lives.  Here  the  "  Seer  of  Chelsea  "  wrote  his  greatest  works, 
and  uttered  the  oracular  warnings  that  brought  pilgrims  to 
No.  0  as  to  a  second  Delphi. 

The  London  life  of  the  Carlyles  was  without  stirring  expe- 
riences.   They  lived  quietly  and  economically.     Old  friends 


14  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

and  many  new  ones  were  constant  visitors.  Leigh  Hunt  was 
their  neighbor.  John  Stuart  Mill  helped  Carlyle  in  the  world 
of  letters.  Other  friends  were  John  Sterling,  whose  biogra- 
phy Carlyle  wrote,  and  Lord  and  Lady  Ashburton.  Other 
visitors  at  the  house  were  Mazzini,  Tennyson,  Forster, 
Dickens.  Later  friends  of  Carlyle  were  Ruskin,  Froude, 
Prof.  Masson,  Prof.  Tyndall.  Both  Carlyle  and  Mrs.  Carlyle 
frequently  made  visits  with  friends  outside  of  London.  In- 
deed, it  was  Carlyle's  practice,  after  completing  a  book,  to 
take  a  long  vacation,  travelling  and  visiting  his  friends.  In 
London,  as  at  Craigenputtoch,  Carlyle  was  absorbed  ift  his 
work.  He  left  Mrs.  Carlyle  much  to  herself,  and  she  felt  the 
loneliness  and  the  household  cares.  Carlyle  was  considerably 
disturbed  by  neighboring  noises,  which  his  wife  always  suc- 
ceeded in  suppressing.  Finally,  to  be  rid  of  them,  he  had  a 
sound-pi'oof  room  constructed  at  the  top  of  the  house,  which, 
alas,  pi'oved  to  be  not  sound-proof.  His  dyspepsia  and  bil- 
iousness continued,  and  the  labor  of  composition  was  always 
grievous  to  him,  yet  he  undoubtedly  enjoyed  life  more  than 
his  exaggerated  language  would  lead  one  to  believe. 

When  Carlyle  reached  London  none  of  the  works  that  have 
made  him  famous  had  yet  been  written.  Publishers  were 
avoiding  him.  They  recognized  a  certain  genius  in  him,  but 
had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  an  en-atic  genius,  which 
was  being  wasted  upon  exti-avagant  nonsense  expressed  in  a 
barbarous  style.  In  February,  1835,  he  writes  that  it  is  now 
"some  twenty-three  months  since  I  have  earned  one  penny 
by  the  craft  of  literature." 

All  this  was  changed  in  1837  by  the  publication  of  the 
"  French  Revolution."  It  was  at  once  recognized  as  a  work 
of  superior  merit,  and  its  success  was  unmistakable.  As  a 
vivid,  graphic,  life-like  picture  of  the  Revolution,  it  has  no 
equal.    Its  publication  marks  a  new  era  in  history  writing. 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

Carlyle's  writings  were  now  no  longer  rejected  by  autocratic 
editors  and  publishers. 

The  following  year  "  Sartor  Resartus,"  previously  published 
serially  in  Frasefs,  was  published  in  book  foi'm.  It  is  a 
weird,  almost  grotesque,  presentation  of  C'arlyle's  philosophy, 
in  which  the  decayed  institutions  of  society  are  represented  as 
worn-out  clothing,  only  fit  to  be  cast  oft'. 

During  these  and  the  following  years,  Carlyle  delivered 
four  coui'ses  of  public  lectures  in  London  on  "  German  Litera- 
ture," "  The  History  of  Literature,"  "  The  Revolutions  of  Mod- 
ern Europe,"  and  "  Hero- Worship."  These  lectures  were  re- 
ceived with  much  delight  by  fashionable  society,  Carlyle's  broad 
accent,  sing-song  delivery,  vehement  speech,  and  originality 
seeming  to  take  hold  of  the  popular  taste.  In  "Chartism" 
(1839)  and  "  Past  and  Pi-esent "  (1843)  he  attacks  the  corrup- 
tions of  modern  society  and  sets  forth  his  opinions  of  modern 
reforms.  In  1845  appeared  the  "Life  and  Letters  of  Oliver 
Cromwell,"  a  work  that  has  greatly  modified  men's  opinions  of 
the  Protector.  Carlyle  was  now  recognized  as  a  leader  in  lit- 
erature. His  income  was  ample,  his  pen  feared  and  respected, 
his  fame  assured.  "Latter-day  Pamphlets"  was  published 
in  1850,  and  the  "Life  of  Sterling"  the  following  year. 
Carlyle's  last  great  work,  taking  thirteen  years  for  its  com- 
pletion, was  the  "History  of  Frederick  II.,  commonly  called 
the  Great,"  in  six  volumes,  the  first  two  published  in  1858, 
the  last  in  1865.  This  work  is  a  marvel  of  historical  research, 
and  its  descriptions  of  battles  are  so  exact  and  minute  that 
it  is  said  to  be  used  as  a  text-book  by  German  military  stu- 
dents. 

Before  the  completion  of  this  work,  Mrs.  Cai'lyle's  health 
had  failed  alarmingly.  Carlyle  became  aware  of  her  ill  health 
at  last,  and  grew  considerate  and  tender  as  he  had  not  been 
before.    In  1863  she  was  knocked  down  by  a  cab  and  injured 


16  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

seriously,  but  in  time  was  believed  to  be  growing  better.  In 
1865  Carlyle  was  elected  to  the  rectorship  of  Edinburgh  Uni- 
versity, and  in  April,  1866,  went  to  Edinburgh  to  deliver  the 
rectorial  address.  Prof.  Tyndall  telegrajihed  to  Mrs.  Carlyle 
that  the  oration  was  "a  perfect  triumph."  Carlyle  lingei-ed 
in  Scotland  a  few  days,  and  while  there  received  tlie  unex- 
pected and  overwhelming  news  that  Mrs.  Carlyle  had  been 
found  dead  in  her  carnage,  after  taking  a  drive  through  the 
streets  of  London,  the  afternoon  of  April  21. 

Carlyle  never  recovered  from  this  blow,  and  though  he  lived 
fifteen  years  after  the  death  of  his  wife,  he  dwelt  secluded 
and  did  little  work.  Mrs.  Carlyle  was  buried  at  Haddington, 
where  her  husband  had  these  words  inscribed  on  her  tomb : 
"Here  likewise  now  rests  Jane  Welsh  Carhde,  Spouse  of 
Thomas  Cai'lyle,  Chelsea,  London.  She  was  born  at  Hadding- 
ton 14th  July,  1801,  only  daughter  of  the  above  John  Welsh, 
and  of  Grace  Welsh,  Caplegill,  Dumfriesshire,  his  wife.  In  her 
bright  existence  she  had  more  sorrows  than  are  common  ;  but 
also  a  soft  invincibilitj,  a  cleai'ness  of  discernment,  and  a 
loyalty  of  heart,  which  are  rare.  For  forty  years  she  was  the 
true  and  ever-loving  helpmate  of  her  husband,  and  by  act  and 
word  unweariedly  forwarded  him,  as  none  else  could,  in  all 
of  worthy,  that  he  did  or  attempted.  She  died  at  London,  21st 
Api-il,  1865;  suddenly  snatched  away  from  him,  and  the  light 
of  his  life,  as  if  gone  out." 

His  only  writings  during  these  fifteen  j'ears,  were  the  "Rem- 
iniscences," a  few  articles  contributed  to  magazines,  and  a  se- 
ries of  articles  published  in  one  volume,  in  1875,  on  '•  The  Early 
Kings  of  Norway,"  and  "  The  Portraits  of  John  Knox."  Palsy 
of  the  right  hand  prevented  him  from  writing  several  years 
before  his  deatli.  He  lived,  honored  at  home  and  abroad,  and 
tenderly  cared  for  by  his  friends.  His  powers  gradually  failed, 
and  he  died  Feb.  4,  1881.     Burial  in  Westminster  Abbev  was 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

oflFeved,  but  this  was  contraiT  to  his  previously  ex^jressed  wish, 
and  was  declined.  He  was  buried  at  Ecelefechan,  in  the  yard 
of  the  old  Kirk,  where  with  his  beloved  parents  he  sleeps  the 
last  sleep. 

PORTK.VIT   AND   CHARACTER. 

Emerson  thus  describes  C'arlyle  as  he  appeared  in  1833 : 
"  He  was  tall  and  gaunt  witli  a  elift'-like  brow,  and  holding  his 
extraordinary  powers  of  conversation  in  easy  command ;  cling- 
ing to  his  northern  accent  with  evident  relish ;  full  of  lively 
anecdote,  and  with  a  streaming  humor  which  flooded  every- 
thing lie  looked  upon."  A  recent  biograplier,  Richard  Gar- 
nett,  describes  him  as  he  delivered  his  lectures  in  1837 : 
"  There  he  stood,  a  spai'e  figui'c,  lacking  one  inch  of  six  feet; 
long  but  compact  of  head,  which  seemed  smaller  than  it 
really  was ;  rugged  of  feature ;  brow  abrupt  like  a  low  cliflf, 
craggy  over  eyes  deep-set,  lai'ge,  piercing,  between  blue  and 
dark  gray,  full  of  rolling  fire ;  firm  but  flexible  lips,  no  way 
ungenial ;  dark,  short,  thick  hair,  not  crisp,  but  wavy  as  rock- 
rooted,  tide-swa3'ed  weed;  complexion  bilious-ruddy  or  ruddy- 
bilious,  according  as  Devil  or  Baker  might  be  prevailing  with 
him." 

Carlyle  was  a  man  of  great  force  and  originality  of  charac- 
ter. He  was  sincere  above  all  things.  The  spirit  that  dwelt 
within  him  was  that  of  truth  and  hatred  of  sham.  He  refused 
to  write  popular  litei'ature,  even  though  it  paid  well,  because 
it  could  not  come  from  him  honestly.  He  chose  to  write  his 
own  convictions  in  liis  own  way,  and  brave  unpopularity  and 
starvation.  His  persistency  and  sincerity  at  length  compelled 
the  woi'ld  to  take  him  at  his  own  terms.  He  felt  that  the  times 
were  out  of  joint,  and  that  it  was  his  mission,  as  a  prophet  and 
teacher,  to  denounce  their  falsity  and  set  forth  the  truth.  A 
motto  of  his  younger  days  was  the  emblem  of  the  wasting 


18  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

candle  and  the  inscription,  "  Terar,  dum  prosini,''''  "  Let  me  be 
wasted,  so  I  be  of  use." 

He  was  a  strange  character.  He  inherited  from  his  father 
stern  convictions,  deep  feeling,  and  a  power  of  metaphorical 
language.  He  had  a  violent  temper  as  a  child,  and  ill  health 
did  not  improve  it.  He  was  irritable,  impatient  of  interrup- 
tion, and  as  his  mother  said,  "gey  (very)  ill  to  live  with." 
His  exaggeration  and  his  metaphorical  speech  are  at  times 
grotesque  and  humorous.  He  calls  chickens  that  disturb  him 
"demon  fowls;"  incompetent  servants  are  "cows,"  "moon- 
calves," "  scandalous  randies."  The  world  is  a  "  dog's  cage," 
a  "  simmering  Tophet,"  "Pigdom,"  "  Gigmanity."  Similar 
exaggerated  and  figurative  epithets  are  applied  to  contempo- 
rary authors  and  to  all  persons  and  things  that  fall  within  the 
notice  of  his  cynical,  scornful,  and  sarcastic  speech.  He  was 
at  times  deeply  depressed  and  looked  with  gloom  upon  the 
weakness  of  men  and  the  degeneracy  of  the  times.  He  could 
not  take  a  cheerful  view  of  life,  and  seems  to  be  struggling 
constantly  against  its  ills,  though  his  habit  of  exaggeration 
magnifies  the  impression  of  his  unhappiness.  While  his  ver- 
bal memoiy  was  not  so  wonderful  as  Macaulay's,  his  greater 
originality,  his  gift  of  metaphor,  his  humor,  his  fluency,  made 
him  an  equally  extraordinary  conversationist.  Though  he 
always  spoke  with  a  broad  Annandale  accent,  his  voice  was 
singularly  expressive  and  atti*active. 

TEACmNGS  AND  INFLUENCE. 

The  cardinal  doctrines  of  Carlyle's  teachings  may  be  spoken 
of  briefly.  "  Do  thy  duty,  the  duty  that  lies  nearest  thee ;  the 
next  duty  will  already  have  become  clear."  Work,  produce, 
do  not  lie  idle.  This  teaching  of  Carlyle's  has  sometimes 
been  called  "  the  Gospel  of  Labor."    Be  true  to  yourself  and 


INTRODUCTION.  19 

to  your  convictions.  Seek  the  truth.  Avoid  all  sham,  hypoc- 
risy, and  cant,  of  which  the  Avorld,  especially  the  modern 
world  with  its  false  institutions,  is  so  lai'gely  composed. 
Renounce  self  that  you  may  obey  the  call  of  Work  and  Duty. 
His  political  doctrines  are  not  so  sound,  according  to  our  way 
of  thinking.  Pemocracy  he  had  no  faith  in.  "  All  things 
that  we  see  standing  accomplished  in  the  world  are  properly 
the  outer  material  result,  the  practical  realization  and  embodi- 
ment of  Thoughts  that  dwell  in  the  Great  Men  sent  into  the 
world :  the  soul  of  the  whole  world's  history,  it  may  be  justly 
considered,  were  the  history  of  these."  The  mass  of  mankind 
must  bow  before  these  heaven-sent  heroes  and  yield  to  them 
implicit  obedience.  He  believed  not  in  the  government  of 
the  many,  but  in  an  aristocracy  in  the  primary  sense  of  that 
word  ^  a  government  of  the  best.  He  had  little  sympathy 
with  the  attempts  at  reform  that  he  saw  made  about  him,  and 
denounced  many  of  these  attempts  in  violent  language.  Yet 
he  offers  no  better  way,  brings  forward  no  practical  method, 
by  which  the  "vile  age  of  Pinchbeck"  may  be  made  less 
vile. 

Carlyle's  influence  on  modern  thought  has  been  great.  It 
is  the  influence,  however,  of  the  prophet  and  exhorter,  not  of 
the  statesman  and  the  man  of  action.  His  work  for  mankind 
was  to  inspire  men  to  act,  not  to  show  them  how  to  act.  By 
his  powerful  and  soul-stirring  voice  he  starts  men  from  their 
lethargy,  and  bids  them  be  up  and  doing,  though  he  does  not 
tell  them  definitely  what  to  do.  He  comes  as  one  crying  in 
the  wilderness,  "  Prepare  ye  the  way  of  the  Truth."  When 
the  Truth  has  illumined  you,  what  you  should  do  will  be  made 
clear.  His  contribution  to  humanity  and  progress  lies  not  in 
what  he  has  himself  accomplished,  but  in  what  he  has  inspired 
other  noble  minds  to  accomplish. 


so  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


LITERARY   STYLE. 

The  best  analysis  of  Carlyle's  style  is  to  be  found  in  Prof. 
Minto's  "  Manual  of  English  Prose  Literature."  A  good  brief 
description  is  the  following  short  extract  from  Prof.  Nicholas 
"  Thomas  Carlyle :  "  —  • 

Carlyle  is  seldom  obscure ;  the  energy  of  his  manner  is  part 
of  his  matter ;  its  abruptness  corresponds  to  the  abruptness  of 
his  thought,  which  proceeds  often,  as  it  were,  by  a  series  of 
electric  shocks  that  threaten  to  break  through  the  formal  re- 
sti'aints  of  an  ordinary  sentence.  He  writes  like  one  who  must, 
under  the  spell  of  his  own  winged  words  ;  at  all  hazards,  deter- 
mined to  convey  his  meaning ;  willing  like  Montaigne,  to  "  de- 
spise no  phrase  of  those  that  run  in  the  streets,"  to  speak  in 
strange  tongues,  and  even  to  coin  new  words  for  the  expression 
of  a  new  emotion.  It  is  his  fashion  to  care  as  little  for  rounded 
phrase  as  for  logical  argument,  and  he  rather  convinces  and 
persuades  by  calling  up  a  succession  of  feelings  than  by  a  train 
of  reasoning.  ...  He  Avas,  let  us  grant,  though  a  powerful, 
a  one-sided  historian,  a  twisted,  though  in  some  aspects  a  great 
moralist;  but  he  was  in  every  sense  a  mighty  painter,  now 
dipping  his  pencil  "in  the  hues  of  earthquake  and  eclipse," 
now  etching  his  scenes  with  the  tender  touch  of  a  Millet.  .  .  . 
The  most  Protean  quality  of  Carlyle's  genius  is  his  humor : 
now  lighting  up  the  crevices  of  some  quaint  fancy,  now  shin- 
ing over  his  serious  thought  like  sunshine  over  the  sea,  it  is  at 
its  best  as  finely  quaint  as  that  of  Cervantes,  more  humane  than 
Swift's.  There  is  in  it,  as  in  all  the  highest  humor,  a  sense  of 
appai'ent  contrast,  even  of  contradiction,  in  life,  of  matter  for 
laughter  in  sorrow  and  teai'S  in  joy.  He  seems  to  check  him- 
self, and,  as  if  afraid  of  wearing  his  hearten  his  sleeve,  throws 
in  absurd  illustrations  of  serious  propositions,  partly  to  show 
their  imiversal  range,  partly  in  obedience  to  an  instinct  of 
reserve,  to  escape  the  reproach  of  sermonizing  and  to  cut  the 
story  short.  Carlyle's  grotesque  is  a  mode  of  his  golden  si- 
lence, a  sort  of  Socratic  irony  in  the  indulgence  of  which  he 
laughs  at  his  readers  and  at  himself. 


INTRODUCTION.  21 

The  following  analysis  is  from  Leslie  Stephens's  excellent  ar- 
ticle on  "Carlyle,"  in  the  "Dictionary  of  National  Biogra- 
phy : "  "  His  style,  whether  learned  at  home  or  partly  acquired 
under  the  influence  of  Irving  and  Richter  (see  Froude,  i.,  396), 
faithfully  reflects  his  idiosyncras}'.  Tliough  his  language  is 
always  clear,  and  often  pure  and  exquisite  English,  its  habitual 
eccentricities  ofi'ended  critics,  and  make  it  the  most  dangerous 
qf  models.  They  are  pardonable  as  the  only  fitting  embodiment 
of  his  graphic  power,  his  shrewd  insight  into  human  nature, 
and  his  peculiar  humor,  which  blends  sympathy  for  the  suf- 
fering with  scorn  for  fools.  His  faults  of  style  are  the  result  of 
the  perpetual  straining  for  emphasis  of  which  he  was  conscious, 
and  which  must  be  attributed  to  an  excessive  nervous  irrita- 
bility seeking  relief  in  strong  language,  as  well  as  to  a  super- 
abundant intellectual  vitality.  Conventionality  was  for  him  the 
deadly  sin.  Every  sentence  must  be  alive  to  its  fingex-'s  end. 
As  a  thinker  he  judges  by  intuition  instead  of  calculation.  In 
history  he  tries  to  see  the  essential  fact  stripped  of  the  glosses 
of  pedants ;  in  politics,  to  recognize  the  real  forces  masked  by 
constitutional  mechanism ;  in  philosophy,  to  hold  the  living 
spirit  untrammelled  by  the  dead  letter." 

BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

A  few  of  the  leading  authorities  for  Carlyle's  biography  and 
work  are  the  following:  His  "Reminiscences,"  edited  by  J. 
A.  Froude ;  Froude's  "  Life  of  Carlyle,"  four  volumes ;  "  Let- 
ters and  Memorials  of  Jane  Welsh  Carlyle,"  edited  by  Froude ; 
Correspondence  of  Carlyle  and  Emerson,  edited  by  Charles 
Eliot  Norton;  "Carlyle,"  in  the  "Great  Writers"  series,  by 
Richard  Garnett,  with  an  exhaustive  bibliography  by  John  P. 
Anderson,  to  which  the  reader  is  referred ;  and  the  article  on 
Carlyle  by  Leslie  Stephens,  in  the  "  Dictionary  of  National  Bi- 


22  THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

ography,"  vol.  IX.  The  latest  "  Life  of  Carlyle"  is  by  Prof. 
Nichol,  in  the  "English  Men  of  Letters  Series,"  HarjDer  and 
Bros.,  1892.  The  innumei'able  criticisms  of  Carlyle  in  the 
magazines  may  be  found  through  the  guidance  of  "Poole's 
Index  of  Periodical  Literature." 


CHRONOLOGICAL   OUTLINES. 


1795.    Dec.  4,  Carlyle  born  at  Ecclefechan. 
1809-14.    At  Edinburgh  University. 
1814-16.    Mathematical  teacher  at  Annan. 
1816-18.    Teacher  at  Kirkaldy. 

1818-22.    At   Edinburgh.     Contributes    to  Brewster's   Edinburgh 
Encyclopedia. 
1822-24.    Tutor  to  the  Bullers. 

1824.  Translations  of  Legendre's  Geometry  and  Trigonometry  and 
Goethe's  Wilhelm  Meister. 

1825.  Publishes  Life  of  Schiller,  previously  published  in  London 
Magazine. 

1826.  Oct.  17,  marries  Miss  "Welsh. 
1826-28.    At  Comely  Bank,  Edinburgh. 

1828-34.    At  Craigenputtoch.    Writes  Sartor  Resartus  and  T?ie  Dia^ 
mond  Necklace. 
1834.    Removes  to  Chelsea. 

1837.  The  French  Revolution,  his  first  literary  success. 

1838.  Sartor  Resartus  published. 

1839.  Critical  and  Miscellaneous  Essays. 

1840.  Chartism. 

1841.  Heroes  and  Hero- Worship. 
1843.    Past  and  Present. 

1845.     Life  and  Letters  of  Oliver  Cromwell. 

1850.  Latter-day  Pamphlets. 

1851.  Life  of  John  Sterling. 

1853.     Occasional  Discourse  on  the  Nigger  Question. 

23 


24  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

1858-65.    History  of  Frederick  the.  Great. 
1866.    Rector's  address  at  Edinburgh. 

1866.  April  21,  death  of  Mrs.  Carlyle. 

1867.  Shooting  Niagara,  and  After  ? 

1874.  Receives  the  Prussian  Order  of  Merit. 

1875.  The  Early  Kings  of  Norway  ;  also  an  Essay  on  the  Portraits 
of  John  Knox. 

1881.    Feb.  4,  Carlyle  dies. 


METHOD   OF   STUDY. 


The  following  method  of  studying  an  English  classic  is  sug- 
gested to  students.  Of  course  there  are  other  methods  aa 
good,  perhaps  better,  but  it  is  believed  these  suggestions  will 
be  found  helpful.  They  are  made  brief  intentionally,  and 
cast  in  the  form  of  rules,  that  there  may  be  no  mistake  as  to 
what  the  student  is  asked  to  do. 

(a.)  The  first  study  of  the  lesson  should  be  a  general  pre- 
liminary reading,  without  the  use  of  reference  books,  its  object 
being  to  get  the  substance,  plot,  or  "  story  "  of  the  lesson, 

(6,)  The  lesson  should  then  be  read  a  second  time,  consult- 
ing books  of  reference  for  the  meaning  and  pronunciation  of 
unfamiliar  words,  obscure  allusions,  historical,  biographical, 
and  geograpliical  references,  etc.  Keep  a  note-book  in  which 
are  to  be  recorded  the  results  of  these  investigations.  ]\Iake 
your  notes  brief,  and  let  them  contain  only  facts  essential  to 
the  understanding  of  the  text.  Do  not  record  many  dates. 
Do  not  accumulate  in  your  note-books  a  mass  of  facts  you  will 
not  be  likely  to  remember.  Transfer  to  your  minds  tlu;  infor- 
mation contained  in  your  notes.  The  object  of  this  reading  is 
to  gain  a  complete  and  intelligent  understanding  of  the  mean- 
ing of  every  word  and  sentence ;  that  is,  to  grasp  the  author's 
thought  completely.  The  books  of  reference  in  which  most 
of  the  information  souglit  for  will  be  found  are  unabridged 
dictionaries,  especially  "Webster's  International"  and  the 
"  Century  Dictionaiy ;  "  Lippincott's  "Gazetteer"  and  "Bio- 
graphical Dictionary;"  Brewer's  "  Reader's  Hand-book  "  and 

25 


26  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

the  same  author's  "Historic  Xote-book;"  classical  and  Bible 
dictionaries ;  encyclopsedias,  especially  the  "  Britannica,"  if 
its  index  be  consulted. 

(c.)  Now  read  the  lesson  a  third  time.  The  new  knowledge 
you  will  have  gained  by  your  second  reading  will  enable  you 
to  understand  thoroughly  what  you  read  and  will  add  a  new 
enjoyment. 

(d.)  The  lesson  should  now  be  read  critically,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  analyzing  the  author's  style  and  qualities  as  an  artist. 
Note  any  new  characteristics  of  style  that  may  appear  in  the 
lesson  and  make  a  record  of  your  observations.  Ask  yourself 
such  questions  as  the  following :  Could  the  author  have  ex- 
pressed his  meaning  better  in  such  and  such  a  place  ?  Why  is 
such  and  such  an  expression  particularly  appropriate  ?  Where- 
in, in  a  notable  way,  does  the  author  show  his  art  or  skill  ?  Has 
he  violated  any  rules  of  art?  What  part  does  the  lesson  play 
in  the  development  of  the  plot,  or  the  trend  of  the  argument  ? 

(e.)  In  all  your  reading  use  your  imagination.  As  you  read, 
try  to  call  up  before  your  mind  a  picture  of  the  objects  or  the 
scenes  described  and  the  incidents  narrated.  Think  while  you 
read.     Let  your  reading  be  suggestive. 

(/.)  When  reading  aloud  during  the  recitation,  give  special 
attention  to  holding  the  head  erect  and  to  reading  clearly; 
remembering  that  to  be  a  good  reader  is  not  to  read  theatri- 
cally, in  an  unnatural  tone,  but  to  read  in  a  straightforward, 
natural  way,  with  good  expression  of  the  sentiment,  pronoun- 
cing correctly  and  enunciating  clearly. 

(gr.)  Passages  that  please  you  or  "familiar  quotations" 
should  be  memorized,  for  the  purpose  of  training  the  memory 
and  of  enriching  the  mind. 

(A.)  Special  work  in  outlining,  abstracting,  characterization, 
biography  of  the  author,  composition,  etc.,  should  be  fre- 
quently assigned  by  the  instinictor. 


THE  AFFAIR   OF  THE  DIAMOND 
NECKLACE. 


Among  the  host  of  miserable  mistakes  and  crimes  that  pre- 
ceded the  French  Revolution,  exciting  hostile  public  opinion 
and  intense  hatred  of  the  monarchy  and  existing  institutions, 
the  affair  of  the  Diamond  Necklace  is  prominent. 

Prince  Louis  de  Rohan  was  a  profligate,  wealthy,  and  vain 
cardinal  of  the  church.  He  had  been  Ambassador  of  France  at 
Vienna  under  Louis  XV.,  and  while  there  had  incurred  the 
displeasure  of  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa  and  of  her  daugh- 
ter, Marie  Antoinette,  then  recently  married  to  the  Dauphin  of 
France.  When  Maiue  Antoinette  became  queen  at  the  acces- 
sion of  Louis  XVI.,  Rohan  was  recalled  from  Vienna  and  ban- 
ished from  tlie  court  at  Versailles.  To  a  man  of  his  character 
of  mind  and  way  of  living  this  was  little  short  of  perpetual 
imprisonment.  He  made  every  effort  to  regain  the  favor  of 
the  queen  and  to  restore  himself  at  coux't,  but  in  vain. 

About  this  time  one  Boehmer,  court  jeweller  of  France,  had 
made  a  beautiful  necklace  composed  of  five  hundred  diamonds 
and  valued  at  one  million  eight  hundred  thousand  livi'es,  or 
between  four  hundred  and  four  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars.  He  tried  to  sell  this  magnificent  diamond  necklace 
to  the  king,  but  the  queen  refused  it  on  the  ground  of  expense. 
Poor  Boehmer  was  distracted,  and  his  vehement  efforts  to  sell 

27 


28  THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

the  necklace  became  a  court  joke.  At  this  stage  of  aflfairs  an 
adventuress  came  to  his  assistance. 

Jeanne  de  Saint-Remi  was  an  illegitimate  descendant  of  the 
royal  house  of  Valois.  She  had  married  a  gendarme  named 
Lamotte,  and  by  virtue  of  her  descent  now  called  him  Count, 
and  herself  Countess  de  Lamotte.  Living  by  hook  or  crook 
and  buzzing  about  the  outer  circles  of  the  court,  she  learned 
of  the  troubles  of  both  Rohan  and  Boehmer,  and  a  colossal  and 
daring  project  of  fraud  shaped  itself  in  her  brain.  Gain- 
ing the  acquaintance  of  Rohan  in  January,  1784,  she  duped  him 
into  believing  that  she  was  intimate  with  the  queen  and  that  the 
queen  wanted  the  diamond  necklace.  Cagliostro,  a  noted  as- 
trologer and  magician,  was  called  in  to  befuddle  further  the 
brain  of  the  vain  and  foolish  cardinal. 

Rohan  was  led  to  believe  that  the  queen  wished  him  to  act 
as  her  agent  in  purchasing  the  necklace,  which  the  king  would 
not  allow  her  to  purchase ;  that  she  would  afterward  pay  for 
it  in  instalments  ;  and  that  for  his  assistance  in  the  matter  he 
would  be  restored  to  her  favor,  and  ultimately  admitted  to 
court.  All  was  to  be  secret  for  the  present,  however.  A 
rascal  named  Villette  was  admitted  to  the  fraudulent  game,  and 
his  part  was  to  forge  notes  from  the  queen  to  Rohan,  and  to 
act  the  part  of  the  queen's  valet.  The  cardinal  was  completely 
deceived.  He  believed  that  he  was  fully  in  the  favor  of  the 
queen.  To  confirm  him  in  this  belief  the  countess  contrived  a 
fictitious  interview  between  Rohan  and  the  queen,  in  the  Horn- 
beam Arbor  of  the  garden  at  Versailles.  A  Parisian  street 
girl.  Gay  D'Oliva,  who  somewhat  resembled  Marie  Antoinette 
in  fio"ure  and  profile,  impersonated  the  queen  —  the  darkness 
and  a  skilfully  contrived  inteiTuption  preventing  the  cardinal 
from  discovering  the  deception. 

The  result  of  all  this  was,  that  on  the  29th  of  January,  1785, 
Boehmer  and  Rohan  signed  an  agreement  by  which  the  latter 


THE  AFFAIR  OF  THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.     29 

was  to  purchase  the  necklace  for  the  queen,  and  pay  for  it  in 
five  equal  instalments,  the  first  in  six  months.  On  Feb.  1, 
the  necklace  was  delivered  to  Rohan,  and  the  next  evening,  in 
Lamotte's  apartments  at  Versailles,  in  the  presence  of  the  car- 
dinal, it  was  delivered  to  Villette,  supposed  by  Rohan  to  be  the 
queen's  valet.  The  necklace  now  vanished  forever.  Lamotte, 
the  husband,  and  Villette  went  abroad  and  sold  the  diamonds 
in  London  and  in  Amsterdam. 

Meantime  the  cardinal  was  growing  anxious  at  not  receiv- 
ing I'ecognition  for  his  services  from  the  queen.  The  day  of 
the  first  payment,  July  30,  came,  and  no  instalment  from  the 
queen.  Boehmer,  importunate  for  his  money,  spoke  to  the 
king's  minister,  and  the  whole  daring  and  successful  plot  was 
exposed.  The  cardinal  was  arrested  Aug.  15,  Assumption 
Day,  as  he  was  about  to  celebrate  mass,  and  was  imprisoned 
in  the  Bastille.  Lamotte  and  Villette  had  escaped,  but  the 
"  Countess"  de  Lamotte,  Gay  D'Oliva,  Cagliostro  and  his  wife, 
were  arrested  and  imprisoned.  The  trial  lasted  nine  months 
and  ended  May  31,  1786.  The  cardinal  was  acquitted  and 
completely  exonerated.  Madame  Lamotte  was  found  guilty, 
was  branded  with  a  V  (voleuse,  thief),  and  was  to  be  confined 
in  the  Salpetrifere.  Lamotte,  though  out  of  reach  of  the  sen- 
tence, was  condemned  to  the  galleys  for  life.  Villette  was 
banished  from  France.    The  rest  were  acquitted. 

The  trial  caused  immense  scandal.  The  powerful  families 
of  Rohan,  Soubise,  and  Cond6,  and  the  people  of  France,  gen- 
erally, sided  with  the  cardinal  and  blamed  the  queen, 
falsely  charging  her  with  being  a  party  to  the  plot.  The 
miserable  business  still  fui'ther  undermined  respect  for  the 
throne  and  increased  the  unpopularity  of  Marie  Antoinette. 
The  odium  of  the  "Diamond  Necklace"  imbittered  all  her 
future  life,  and  followed  her  to  the  very  steps  of  the  guil- . 
lotine. 


30  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

Of  the  authorities  on  the  Necklace  matter  quoted  by  Carlyle, 
the  best  and  most  easily  accessible  is  an  edition  of  the  "Me- 
moirs of  Marie  Antoinette,  by  Madame  Campan,"  edited  by 
Lamartine,  with  appendices  containing  copious  extracts  from 
the  "Memoirs  "  of  Georgel.  Accounts  of  the  intrigue  are  given, 
in  Tytler's  "Marie  Antoinette;"  in  the  Encyclopedia  Britan- 
nica,  article  ' '  Rohan ; "  in  Chambers's  Encyclopedia,  article 
*' Diamond  Xecklace ;  "  in  Guizot's  "History  of  France."  Car- 
lyle's  "French  Revolution"  will  throw  light  on  parts  of  the 
"  Diamond  Necklace." 


SUMMARY    OF    CONTENTS. 

THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE. 

Chap.  I.     The  Age  of  Romance. 

The  Age  of  Romance  can  never  cease :  All  Life  romantic, 
and  even  mii-aculous.  —  How  few  men  have  the  smallest  tm'n 
for  thinking!  "  Dignity  "  and  deadness  of  History:  Stifling 
influence  of  Respectability.  No  age  ever  seemed  romantic  to 
itself.  Perennial  Romance  :  The  lordliest  Real-Phantasmago- 
ria, which  men  name  Being.  What  fiction  can  be  so  wonder- 
ful, as  the  thing  that  w?  The  Romance  of  the  Diamond  Neck- 
lace no  foolish  brainweb,  but  actually  "  spirit- woven  "  in  the 
Loom  of  Time. 

Chap.  H.     The  Necklace  is  made. 

Last  infirmity  of  M.  Boehmer's  mind :  The  King's  Jeweller 
would  fain  be  maker  of  the  Queen  of  Jewels.  Diflferenee 
between  making  and  agglomerating :  The  various  Histories 
of  those  several  Diamonds :  What  few  things  are  made  by 
man.    A  Necklace,  fit  only  for  the  Sultana  of  the  World. 

Chap.  HI.     The  Necklace  cannot  be  sold. 

Miscalculating  Boehmer !  The  Necklace  intended  for  the 
neck  of  Du  Barry;  but  her  foul  day  is  now  over.    Many 

31 


32  THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

praises,  but  no  purchaser.  Loveliest  Marie-Antoinette,  every 
incli  a  Queen.  Tlie  Age  of  Chivalry  gone,  and  that  of  Bank- 
ruptcy is  come. 

Chap.  FV^.     Affinities: :  the  Two  Fixed-ideas. 

A  man's  little  Work  lies  not  isolated,  stranded;  but  is 
eaught-up  by  the  boundless  Whirl  of  Things,  and  carried  — 
who  shall  say  whither  ?  Prince  Louis  de  Rohan  ;  a  nameless 
Mass  of  delirious  Incoherences,  held-iu  a  little  by  conventional 
Politesse.  These  are  thy  gods,  O  France!  Sleek  Abbe  Geor- 
gel,  a  model  Jesuit,  and  Prince  de  Rohan's  nursing-mother. 
Embassy  to  Vienna:  Disfavor  of  Maria  Theresa  and  of  the 
fair  Antoinette.  —  Hideous  death  of  King  Louis  the  Well- 
beloved.  Rohan  returns  from  Vienna ;  and  the  young  Queen 
refuses  to  see  him.  Teetotum-terrors  of  life  at  Court.  His 
Eminence's  blank  despair,  and  desperate  struggle  to  clutch 
the  favor  he  has  lost.  Give  the  wisest  of  us  a  "fixed-idea," 
and  what  can  his  wisdom  heliJ  him  !  —  Will  not  her  Majesty 
buy  poor  Boehmer's  Necklace?  and  oli,  will  she  not  smile 
once  more  on  poor  dissolute,  distracted  Rohan  ?  The  beauti- 
ful clear-hearted  Queen,  alas,  beset  by  two  Monomaniaci ; 
whose  "  fixed-ideas  "  may  one  day  meet. 


Chap.  V.     The  Artist. 

Jeanne  de  Saint-Remi,  a  brisk  little  nondescript  Scion-of- 
Royalty :  Her  parentage  and  hungry  prospects.  Her  singu- 
larly undecipherable  character.  Conscience  not  essential  to 
every  character  named  human.  A  Spark  of  vehement  Life, 
not  developed  into  Will  of  any  kind,  only  into  Desires  of  many 
kinds  :  Glibness,  shiftiness  and  untamability.  —  Kittenness  not 
yet  hardened  into  cathood.    ifarries  M.  de  Lamotte,  and  dubs 


SUMMARY  OF  CONTENTS.  33 

him  Count.  Hard  shifts  for  a  living.  Visits  liis  Eminence 
Pi'ince  Louis  de  Rolian :  his  monomaniac  folly  now  under 
Cagliostro's  management.     The  glance  of  hungry  genius. 

Chap.  VI.     Will  the  Two  Fixed-vkas  mccf? 

The  poor  Countess  de  Lamotte"s  watergrnel  rations ;  and 
desperate  tackings  and  manoeuvrings  within  wind  of  Court. 
Eminence  Rohan  arrives  thitherward,  driven  by  his  fixed- 
idea.  Idle  gossiping  and  tattling  concerning  Boehmer  and 
his  Necklace.  In  some  moment  of  inspiration,  a  question 
rises  on  our  brave  Lamotte:  If  not  a  great  Divine  Idea,  then 
a  great  Diabolic  one.  How  Thought  rules  the  world!  —  A 
female  Dramatist  worth  thinking  of.  Could  ISIadame  de 
Lamotte  have  written  a  Hamlet '?  Poor  Eminence  Rohan  in  a 
Prospero's-grotto  of  Cagliostro  magic  ;  led  on  ])y  our  sprightly 
Countess's  soft-warbling  deceitful  blandishments. 

Chap.  VII.    Marie-Antoinette. 

The  Countess  plays  upon  the  credulity  of  his  Eminence : 
Strange  messages  for  and  from  the  innocent,  unconscious 
Queen.  Frankhearted  Marie-Antoinette ;  beautiful  Highborn, 
so  foully  hurled  low!  The  "Sanctuary  of  Sorrow"  for  all 
the  wretched :  That  wild-yelling  World,  and  all  its  madness, 
will  one  day  lie  dumb  behind  thee  ! 

Chap.  VIII.     The  Tzvo  Fixed-ideas  will  unite. 

Further  dexterities  of  the  glib-tongued  Lamotte :  How  she 
managed  with  Cagliostro.  Boehmer  is  made  to  hear  (by  acci- 
dent) of  her  new  found  favor  with  the  Queen ;  and  believes 
it.  Drowning  men  catch  at  straws,  and  hungry  blacklegs  stick 
at  nothing.  — -Can  her  Majesty  be  persuaded  to  buy  the  Neck- 


34  THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

lace  ?  Will  her  Majesty  deign  to  accept  a  present  so  worthy 
of  her  ?  —  Walk  warily,  Countess  de  Lamotte,  with  nerve  of 
iron,  but  on  shoes  of  felt! 

Chap.  IX.     Park  of  Versailles. 

Ineflfable  expectancy  stirs-up  his  Eminence's  soul:  "This 
night  the  Queen  herself  will  meet  thee ! "  Sleep  rules  this 
Hemisphere  of  the  World ;  —  rather  curious  to  consider. 
Darkness  and  magical  delusions :  The  Countess's  successful 
dramaturgy.    Ixion  de  Rohan,  and  the  foul  Centaurs  he  begat. 

Chap.  X.    Behind  the  Scenes. 

The  Lamotte  all-conquering  talent  for  intrigue.  The  Demoi- 
selle d'Oliva ;  unfortunate  Queen's  Similitude,  and  unconscious 
tool  of  skilful  knavery. 

Chap.  XI.     The  Necklace  is  sold. 

A  pause :  The  two  fixed-ideas  have  felt  each  other,  and  are 
.rapidly  coalescing.  His  Eminence  will  buy  the  Xecklace,  on 
her  Majesty's  account.  O  Dame  de  Lamotte!  —  "I?  Who 
saw  me  in  it  ?  "  —  Rohan  and  Boehmer  in  earnest  business  con- 
ference :  A  forged  Royal  approval :  Secrecy  as  of  Death. 

Chap.  Xn.     The  Necklace  vanishes. 

The  bargain  concluded ;  his  Eminence  the  proud  possessor 
of  the  Diamond  Necklace.  Again  the  scene  changes ;  and  he 
has  forwarded  it —  whither  he  little  dreams. 

Chap.  XIII.     Scene  Third:  by  Dame  de  Lamotte. 

Cagliostro,  with  his  greasy  prophetic  bulldog  face.  Coun- 
tess de  Lamotte  and  his  Eminence  in  the  Versailles  Gallery. 


SUMMARY  OF  CONTEXTS.  35 

Through  that  long  Gallery,  what  figures  have  passed,  and 
vanished !  The  Queen  now  passes  ;  and  graciously  looks  this 
way,  according  to  her  habit :  Dame  de  Lamotte  looks  on,  and 
dexterously  pilfers  the  royal  glances.  Eminence  de  Rohan's 
helpless,  bottomless,  beatific  folly. 

Chap.  XIV.     The  Necklace  cannot  be  jtaid. 

The  Countess's  Dramaturgic  labors  terminate.  How 
strangely  in  life  the  Play  goes  on,  even  when  the  Mover  has 
left  it!  No  Act  of  man  can  ever  die.  His  Eminence  finds 
himself  no  nearer  his  expected  goal :  Unspeakable  perturba- 
tions of  soul  and  body.  —  Blacklegs  in  full  feather :  Rascaldom 
has  no  strong-box.  Dame  de  Lamotte  gayly  stands  the  brunt 
of  the  threatening  Earthquake  :  The  farthest  in  the  world  from 
a  brave  woman.  —  Gloomy  weather-symptoms  for  his  Emi- 
nence :  A  thunder-clap  {per  Countess  de  Lamotte)  ;  and  mud- 
explosion  beyond  parallel. 

Chap.  XV.     Scene  Fourth :  by  Destiny. 

Assumption-day  at  Versailles ;  —  a  thing  they  call  worship- 
ping God  to  enact :  All  Noble  France,  waiting  only  the  signal 
to  begin  worshipping.  Eminence  de  Rohan  chief-actor  in  the 
imposing  scene.  Arrestment  in  the  King's  name  :  There  will 
be  no  Assumption-service  this  day.  The  Bastille  opens  its 
iron  bosom  to  all  the  actors  in  the  Diamond-drama. 


Chap.  XVI.    Missa  est. 

The  extraordinary  ••Necklace  Trial,"  an  astonishment  and 
scandal  to  the  whole  world.  Prophetic  Discourse  by  Count 
Arch-Quack  Cagliostro :  —  Universal  Empire  of  Scoundrelism : 


36  THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

Truth  Wedded  to  Sham  gives  birth  to  I^espectability.  The  old 
Christian  whim,  of  some  sacred  covenant  with  an  actual,  liv- 
ing and  ruling  Ood.  Scoimdrel  Worship  and  Philosophy: 
Deep  significance  of  the  Gallows.  Hideous  fate  of  Dame  de 
Lamotte.  Unfortunate  foully-slandered  Queen  :  Her  eyes  red 
with  their  first  tears  of  pure  bitterness.  The  Empire  of  Im- 
posture in  flames.  —  This  strange,  many-tinted  Business,  like 
a  little  cloud  from  which  wise  men  boded  Earthquakes. 


THE    DIAMOND    NECKLACE.^ 

[1837.] 


CHAPTER   I. 

AGE    OF    ROMANCE. 


The  Age  of  Eomance  has  not  ceased  ;  it  never  ceases ; 
it  does  not,  if  we  will  think  of  it,  so  much  as  very  sen- 
sibly decline.  "  The  passions  are  repressed  by  social 
forms ;  great  passions  no  longer  show  themselves  ? " 
Why,  there  are  passions  still  great  enough  to  replenish  5 
Bedlam,  for  it  never  wants  tenants ;  to  suspend  men 
from  bed-posts,  from  improved-drops  at  the  west  end  of 
Newgate.  A  passion  that  explosively  shivers  asunder 
the  Life  it  took  rise  in,  ought  to  be  regarded  as  consid- 
erable :  more  no  passion,  in  the  highest  heyday  of  Ro-  lO 
mance,  yet  did.  •  The  passions,  by  grace  of  the  Supernal 
and  also  of  the  Infernal  Powers  (for  both  have  a  hand 
in  it),  can  never  fail  us. 

And  then,  as  to  "  social  forms,"  be  it  granted  that  they 
are  of  the  most  buckram  quality,  and  bind  men  up  into  15 

^  Fraser's  Maoazike,  Nos.  85  and  86. 
37 


88  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

the  pitifullest,  straitlaced,  commonplace  existence,  —  you 
ask,  Where  is  the  Romance  ?  In  the  Scotch  way  one 
answers.  Where  is  it  not  ?  That  very  spectacle  of  an 
Immortal  Nature,  with  faculties  and  destiny  extending 

5  through  Eternity,  hampered  and  bandaged  up,  by  nurses, 
pedagogues,  posture-masters,  and  the  tongues  of  innu- 
merable old  women  (named  "  force  of  public  opinion  ")  j 
by  prejudice,  custom,  want  of  knowledge,  want  of 
money,  want  of  strength,  into,  say,  the  meagre  Pattern- 

10  Figure  that,  in  these  days,  meets  you  in  all  thorough- 
fares :  a  "  god-created  Man,"  all  but  abnegating  the 
character  of  Man  ;  forced  to  exist,  automatized,  mummy- 
wise  (scarcely  in  rare  moments  audible  or  visible  from 
amid  his  wrappages  and  cerements),  as  Gentleman  or 

15  Gigman ;  and  so  selling  his  birthright  of  Eternity  for 
the  three  daily  meals,  poor  at  best,  which  Time  yields  : 
—  is  not  this  spectacle  itself  highly  romantic,  tragical,  if 
we  had  eyes  to  look  at  it  ?  The  high-born  (highest- 
born,  for  he  came  out  of  Heaven)  lies  drowning  in  the 

20  despicablest  puddles ;  the  priceless  gift  of  Life,  which  he 
can  have  but  07ice,  for  he  waited  a  whole  Eternity  to  be 
born,  and  now  has  a  whole  Eternity  waiting  to  see  what 
he  will  do  when  born,  —  this  priceless  gift  we  see  stran- 
gled slowly   out  of  him  by  innumerable  packthreads ; 

25  and  there  remains  of  the  glorious  Possibility,  which  we 
fondly  named  Man,  nothing  but  an  inanimate  mass  of 
foul  loss  and  disappointment,  which  we  wrap  in  shrouds 
and  bury  underground,  —  surely  with  well-merited  tears. 
To  the  Thinker  here  lies  Tragedy  enough ;  the  epitome 
and  marrow  of  all  Tragedy  whatsoever. 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  39 

But  so  few  are  Thinkers  ?  Ay,  Reader,  so  few  think ; 
there  is  the  rub !  Not  one  in  the  thousand  has  the 
smallest  turn  for  thinking  ;  only  for  passive  dreaming 
and  hearsaying,  and  active  babbling  by  rote.  Of  the 
eyes  that  men  do  glare  withal  so  few  can  see.  Thus  is  5 
the  world  become  such  a  fearful  confused  Treadmill; 
and  each  man's  task  has  got  entangled  in  his  neigh- 
bor's, and  pulls  it  awry ;  and  the  Spirit  of  Blindness, 
Falsehood  and  Distraction,  justly  named  the  Devil,  con- 
tinually maintains  himself  among  us;  and  even  hopes  10 
(were  it  not  for  the  Opposition,  which  by  God's  grace 
will  also  maintain  itself)  to  become  supreme.  Thus  too, 
among  other  things,  has  the  Romance  of  Life  gone 
wholly  out  of  sight :  and  all  History,  degenerating  into 
empty  invoice-lists  of  Pitched  Battles  and  Changes  of  15 
Ministry  ;  or  still  worse,  into  '■  Constitutional  History," 
or  "Philosophy  of  History,"  or  "Philosophy  teaching  by 
Experience,"  is  become  dead,  as  the  Almanacs  of  other 
years, — to  which  species  of  composition,  indeed,  it 
bears,  in  several  points  of  view,  no  inconsiderable  20 
affinity. 

"  Of  all  blinds  that  shut-up  men's  vision,"  says  one, 
"  the  worst  is  Self."  How  true  !  How  doubly  true,  if 
Self,  assuming  her  cunningest,  yet  miserablest  disguise, 
come  on  us,  in  never-ceasing,  all-obscuring  reflexes  from  25 
the  innumerable  Selves  of  others ;  not  as  Pride,  not  even 
as  real  Hunger,  but  only  as  Vanity,  and  the  shadow  of  an 
imaginary  Hunger  for  Applause ;  under  the  name  of  what 
we  call  "  Respectability  !  "  Alas  now  for  our  Historian  : 
to  his  other  spiritual  deadness  (which  however,  so  long 


40  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

as  he  physically  breathes,  cannot  be  considered  complete) 
this  sad  new  magic  influence  is  added !  Henceforth  his 
Histories  must  all  be  screwed  up  into  the  "  dignity 
of  History."     Instead  of  looking  fixedly  at  the  Thing, 

6  and  first  of  all,  and  beyond  all,  endeavoring  to  see  it, 
and  fashion  a  living  Picture  of  it,  not  a  wretched  polit- 
ico-metaphysical Abstraction  of  it,  he  has  now  quite 
other  matters  to  look  to.  The  Thing  lies  shrouded, 
invisible,   in  thousandfold  hallucinations,   and  foreign 

10  air-images  :  What  did  the  Whigs  say  of  it  ?  What  did 
the  Tories  ?  The  Priests  ?  The  Freethinkers  ?  Above 
all,  What  will  my  own  listening  circle  say  of  me  for 
what  I  say  of  it  ?  And  then  his  Kespectability  in  gen- 
eral, as  a  literary  gentleman ;  his  not  despicable  talent 

16  for  philosophy !  Thus  is  our  poor  Historian's  faculty 
directed  mainly  on  two  objects :  the  Writing  and 
the  Writer,  both  of  which  are  quite  extraneous  ;  and  the 
Thing  written-of  fares  as  we  see.  Can  it  be  wonderful 
that   Histories,  wherein   open  lying   is   not  permitted, 

30  are  unromantic  ?  Nay,  our  very  Biographies,  how  stiff 
starched,  foisonless,  hollow  !  They  stand  there  respec- 
table ;  and  —  what  more  ?  Dumb  idols  ;  with  a  skin  of 
delusively  painted  wax-work ;  inwardly  empty,  or  full 
of  rags  and  bran.     In  our  England  especially,  which  in 

25  these  days  is  become  the  chosen  land  of  Respectability, 
Life-writing  has  dwindled  to  the  sorrowfullest  condi- 
tion ;  it  requires  a  man  to  be  some  disrespectable,  ridic- 
ulous Boswell  before  he  can  write  a  tolerable  Life.  Thus 
too,  strangely  enough,  the  only  Lives  worth  reading  are 
those  of  Players,  emptiest  and  poorest  of  the  sons  of 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  41 

Adam ;  who  nevertheless  were  sons  of  his,  and  brothers 
of  ours  ;  and  by  the  nature  of  the  case,  had  already  bid- 
den Eespectability  good-day.  Such  bounties,  in  this  as 
in  infinitely  deeper  matters,  does  Respectability  shower 
down  on  us.  Sad  are  thy  doings.  0  Gig  ;  sadder  than  5 
those  of  Juggernaut's  Car:  that,  with  huge  wheel,  sud- 
denly crushes  asunder  the  bodies  of  men  ;  thou  in  thy 
light-bobbing  Long-Acre  springs,  gradually  winnowest 
away  their  souls ! 

Depend  upon  it,  for  one  thing,  good  Reader,  no  age  10 
ever  seemed  the  Age  of  Romance  to  ifseJf.  Charle- 
magne, let  the  Poets  talk  as  they  will,  had  his  own  prov- 
ocations in  the  world :  what  with  selling  of  his  poultry 
and  pot-herbs,  what  with  wanton  daughters  carrying  sec- 
retaries through  the  snow ;  and,  for  instance,  that  hang- 15 
ing  of  the  Saxons  over  the  Weserbridge  (four  thousand 
of  them  they  say,  at  one  bout),  it  seems  to  me  that  the 
Great  Charles  had  his  temper  ruffled  at  times.  Roland 
of  Roncesvalles  too,  we  see  well  in  thinking  of  it,  found 
rainy  weather  as  well  as  sunny ;  knew  what  it  was  to  20 
have  hose  need  darning ;  got  tough  beef  to  chew,  or  even 
went  dinnerless ;  was  saddle-sick,  calumniated,  consti- 
pated (as  his  madness  too  clearly  indicates)  ;  and  often- 
est  felt,  I  doubt  not,  that  this  was  a  very  Devil's  world, 
and  he,  Roland  himself,  one  of  the  sorriest  caitiffs  there.  25 
Only  in  long  subsequent  days,  when  the  tough  beef,  the 
constipation  and  the  calumny  had  clean  vanished,  did  it 
all  begin  to  seem  Romantic,  and  your  Turpins  and  Arios- 
tos  found  music  in  it.  So,  I  say,  is  it  ever !  And  the 
more,  as  your  true  hero,  your    true    Roland,    is   ever 


42  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

unconscious  that  he  is  a  hero :  this  is  a  condition  of  all 
greatness. 

In  our  own  poor  Nineteenth  Century,  the  Writer  of 
these  lines  has  been  fortunate  enough  to  see  not  a  few 

5  glimpses  of  Romance ;  he  imagines  his  Nineteenth  is 
hardly  a  whit  less  romantic  than  that  Ninth,  or  any 
other  since  centuries  began.  Apart  from  Napoleon,  and 
the  Dantons,  and  the  Mirabeaus,  whose  fire-words  of 
public  speaking,  and  fire-whirlwinds  of  cannon  and  mus- 

10  ketry,  which  for  a  season  darkened  the  air,  are  perhaps 
at  bottom  but  superficial  phenomena,  he  has  witnessed, 
in  remotest  places,  much  that  could  be  called  roman- 
tic, even  miraculous.  He  has  witnessed  overhead  the 
infinite  Deep,  with  greater  and  lesser  lights,  bright-roll- 

16  ing,  silent-beaming,  hurled  forth  by  the  Hand  of  God : 
around  him  and  under  his  feet,  the  wonderfullest  Earth, 
with  her  winter  snow-storms  and  her  summer  spice-airs; 
and,  unaccountablest  of  all,  himself  standing  there.  He 
stood  in  the  lapse  of  Time ;  he  saw  Eternity  behind  him, 

30  and  before  him.  The  all-encircling  mysterious  tide  of 
Force,  thousandfold  (for  from  force  of  Thought  to  force 
of  Gravitation  what  an  interval !)  billowed  shoreless  on ; 
bore  him  too  along  with  it,  —  he  too  was  part  of  it. 
From  its  bosom  rose  and  vanished,  in  perpetual  change, 

25  the  lordliest  Real-Phantasmagory,  which  men  name 
Being ;  and  ever  anew  rose  and  vanished ;  and  ever 
that  lordliest  many-colored  scene  was  full,  another  yet 
the  same.  Oak-trees  fell,  young  acorns  sprang:  Men 
too,  new-sent  from  the  Unknown,  he  met,  of  tiniest 
size,  who  waxed  into  stature,  into  strength  of  sinew, 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  43 

passionate  fire  and  light :  in  other  men  the  light  was 
growing  dim,  the  sinews  all  feeble ;  then  sank,  motion- 
less, into  ashes,  into  invisibility  ;  returned  back  to  the 
Unknown,  beckoning  him  their  mute  farewell.  He 
wanders  still  by  the  parting-spot;  cannot  hear  them ;  ^ 
they  are  far,  how  far  !  —  It  was  a  sight  for  angels,  and 
archangels  ;  for,  indeed,  God  himself  had  made  it  wholly. 
One  many-glancing  asbestos-thread  in  the  Web  of  Uni- 
versal-History, spirit-woven,  it  rustled  there,  as  with  the 
howl  of  mighty  winds,  through  that  "  wild-roaring  Loom  lo 
of  Time."  Generation  after  generation,  hundreds  of 
them  or  thousands  of  them  from  the  unknown  Begin- 
ning, so  loud,  so  storm ful-busy,  rushed  torrent-wise, 
thundering  down,  down  ;  and  fell  all  silent,  —  nothing 
but  some  feeble  re-echo,  which  grew  ever  feebler,  strug- 15 
gling  up ;  and  Oblivion  swallowed  them  all.  Thousands 
more,  to  the  unknown  Ending,  will  follow :  and  thou 
here,  of  this  present  one,  hangest  as  a  drop,  still  sungilt, 
on  the  giddy  edge ;  one  moment,  while  the  Darkness  has 
not  yet  ingulfed  thee.  0  Brother !  is  that  what  thou  20 
callest  prosaic ;  of  small  interest  ?  Of  small  interest 
and  for  thee  ?  Awake  poor  troubled  sleeper :  shake  off 
thy  torpid  nightmare-dream  ;  look,  see,  behold  it,  the 
Flame-image;  splendors  high  as  Heaven,  terrors  deep 
as  Hell:  this  is  God's  Creation;  this  is  Man's  Life! — 25 
Such  things  has  the  Writer  of  these  lines  witnessed,  in 
this  poor  Nineteenth  Century  of  ours ;  and  what  are  all 
such  to  the  things  he  yet  hopes  to  witness  ?  Hopes, 
with  truest  assurance.  "  I  have  painted  so  much,"  said 
the  good  Jean  Paul,  in  his  old  days,  "  and  I  have  never 


44  THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

seen  the  Ocean ;  the  Ocean  of  Eternity  I  shall  not  fail 
to  see ! " 

Such  being  the  intrinsic  quality  of  this  Time,  and  of 
all  Time  whatsoever,  might  not  the  Poet  who  chanced 

5  to  walk  through  it  find  objects  enough  to  paint?  What 
object  soever  he  fixed  on,  were  it  the  meanest  of  the 
mean,  let  him  but  paint  it  in  its  actual  truth,  as  it  swims 
there,  in  such  environment ;  world-old,  yet  new  and 
never-ending;    an  indestructible  portion  of  the  miracu- 

10  lous  All,  —  his  picture  of  it  were  a  Poem.  How  much 
more  if  the  object  fixed  on  were  not  mean,  but  one 
already  wonderful ;  the  mystic  ''  actual  truth  "  of  which, 
if  it  lay  not  on  the  surface,  yet  shone  through  the  sur- 
face, and  invited  even  Prosaists  to  search  for  it ! 

15  The  present  Writer,  who  unhappily  belongs  to  that 
class,  has  nevertheless  a  firmer  and  firmer  persuasion  of 
two  things :  first,  as  was  seen,  that  Romance  exists ; 
secondly,  that  now,  and  formerly,  and  evermore  it  exists, 
strictly  speaking,  in  Eeality  alone.     The  thing  that  is, 

20  what  can  be  so  wonderful ;  what,  especially  to  us  that 
are,  can  have  such  significance  ?  Study  Reality,  he  is 
ever  and  anon  saying  to  himself;  search  out  deeper  and 
deeper  its  quite  endless  mystery :  see  it,  know  it ;  then, 
whether  thou  wouldst  learn  from  it,  and  again  teach ;  or 

25  weep  over  it,  or  laugh  over  it,  or  love  it,  or  despise  it, 
or  in  any  way  relate  thyself  to  it,  thou  hast  the  firmest 
enduring  basis :'  that  hieroglyphic  page  is  one  thou  canst 
read  on  forever,  find  new  meaning  in  forever. 

Finally,  and  in  a  word,  do  not  the  critics   teach  us : 
"  In  whatsoever  thing  thou  hast  thyself  felt  interest,  in 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  45 

that  or  in  nothing  hope  to  inspire  others  with  interest "  ? 
—  In  partial  obedience  to  all  which,  and  to  many  other 
principles,  shall  the  following  small  Eomance  of  the 
Diamond  Necklace  begin  to  come  together.  A  small 
Eomance,  let  the  reader  again  and  again  assure  himself,  5 
which  is  no  brainweb  of  mine,  or  of  any  other  foolish 
man's ;  but  a  fraction  of  that  mystic  "  spirit-woven  web," 
from  the  ''Loom  of  Time,"  spoken  of  above.  It  is  an 
actual  Transaction  that  happened  in  this  Earth  of  ours. 
Wherewith  our  whole  business,  as  already  urged,  is  to  lo 
paint  it  truly. 

For  the  rest,  an  earnest  inspection,  faithful  endeavor 
has  not  been  wanting,  on  our  part ;  nor,  singular  as  it 
may  seem,  the  strictest  regard  to  chronology,  geography 
(or  rather  in  this  case,  topography),  documentary  evi- 15 
dence,  and  what  else  true  historical  research  would  yield. 
Were  there  but  on  the  reader's  part  a  kindred  openness, 
a  kindred  spirit  of  endeavor !  Beshone  strongly,  on 
both  sides,  by  such  united  two-fold  Philosophy,  this 
poor  opaque  Intrigue  of  the  Diamond  Necklace  might  20 
become  quite  translucent  between  us ;  transfigured,  lifted 
up  into  the  serene  of  Universal-History  ;  and  might  hang 
there  like  a  smallest  Diamond  Constellation,  visible  with- 
out telescope,  —  so  long  as  it  could. 


46  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


CHAPTER   11. 

'  THE   NECKLACE    IS    MADE. 

Herr,  or  as  he  is  now  called  Monsieur,  Boehmer,  to 
all  appearance  wanted  not  that  last  infirmity  of  noble 
and  ignoble  minds  —  a  love  of  fame;  he  was  destined 
also  to  be  famous  more  than  enough.  His  outlooks 
5  into  the  world  were  rather  of  a  smiling  character :  he 
has  long  since  exchanged  his  guttural  speech,  as  far  as 
possible,  for  a  nasal  one ;  his  rustic  Saxon  fatherland 
for  a  polished  city  of  Paris,  and  thriven  there.  United 
in  partnership  with  worthy  Monsieur  Bassange,  a  sound 

10  practical  man,  skilled  in  the  valuation  of  all  precious 
stones,  in  the  management  of  workmen,  in  the  judgment 
of  their  work,  he  already  sees  himself  among  the  high- 
est of  his  guild  :  nay,  rather  the  very  highest,  —  for  he 
has  secured,  by  purchase  and  hard  money  paid,  the  title 

16  of  King's  Jeweller ;  and  can  enter  the  Court  itself,  leav- 
ing all  other  Jewellers,  and  even  innumerable  Gentle- 
men, Gigmen  and  small  Nobility,  to  languish  in  the 
vestibule.  With  the  costliest  ornaments  in  his  pocket, 
or  borne  after  him  by  assiduous  shopboys,  the  happy 

20  Boehmer  sees  high  drawing  rooms  and  sacred  ruelles  fly 
open,  as  with  talismanic  Sesame;  and  the  brightest 
eyes  of  the  whole  world  grow  brighter :  to  him  aloue  of 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  47 

men  the  Unapproachable  reveals  herself  in  mysterious 
negligee;  taking  and  giving  counsel.  Do  not,  on  all 
gala-days  and  gala-nights,  his  works  praise  him  ?  On 
the  gorgeous  robes  of  State,  on  Court-dresses  and  Lords' 
stars,  on  the  diadem  of  Royalty :  better  still,  on  the  5 
swan-neck  of  Beauty,  and  her  queenly  garniture  from 
plume-bearing  aigrette  to  shoe-buckle  on  fairy -slipper,  — 
that  blinding  play  of  colors  is  Boehmer's  doing :  he  is 
Joaillier-Bijoutier  de  la  Heine. 

Could  the  man  but  have  been  content  with  it !     He  lo 
could  not :  Icarus-like,  he  must  mount  too  high ;  have 
his  wax-wings  melted,  and  descend  prostrate,  —  amid  a 
cloud  of  vain  goose-quills.     One  day,  a  fatal  day  (of  some 
year,   probably  among  the   Seventies  of  last.  Century), 
it  struck  Boehmer :     Why  should  not  I,  who  as  Most  15 
Christian  King's  Jeweller,  am  properly  first  Jeweller  of 
the  Universe,  —  make  a  Jewel  which  the  Universe  has 
not  matched  ?     Nothing  can  prevent  thee,  Boehmer,  if 
thou  have  the  skill  to  do  it.     Skill  or  no  skill,  answers 
he,  I  have  the  ambition :  my  Jewel,  if  not  the  beautiful-  20 
lest,  shall  be  the  dearest.     Thus  was  the  Diamond  Neck- 
lace determined  on. 

Did  worthy  Bassange  give  a  willing,  or  a  reluctant 
consent  ?  In  any  case  he  consents ;  and  co-operates. 
Plans  are  sketched,  consultations  held,  stucco  models  25 
made ;  by  money  or  credit  the  costliest  diamonds  come 
in ;  cunning  craftsmen  cut  them,  set  them  :  proud  Boeh- 
mer sees  the  work  go  prosperously  on.  Proud  man! 
Behold  him  on  a  morning  after  breakfast :  he  has 
stepped  down  to  the  innermost  workshop,  before  sally- 


48  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

ing  out ;  stands  there  with  his  laced  three-cornered  hat, 
cane  under  arm  ;  drawing-ou  his  gloves  :  with  nod,  with 
nasal-guttural  word,  he  gives  judicious  contirmation, 
judicious   abnegation,   censure    and    approval.     A  still 

5  joy  is  dawning  over  that  bland,  blond  face  of  his  ;  he 
can  think,  while  in  many  a  sacred  boudoir  he  visits 
the  Unapproachable,  that  an  opus  viagjjum,  of  which  the 
world  wotteth  not,  is  progressing.  At  length  comes  a 
morning  when  care  has  terminated,  and  joy  can  not  only 

10  dawn  but  shine ;  the  Necklace,  which  shall  be  famous 
and  world-famous,  is  made. 

Made  we  call  it,  in  conformity  with  common  speech, 
but  properly  it  was  not  made ;  only,  with  more  or 
less    spirit    of    method,    arranged    and    agglomerated. 

16  What  spirit  of  method  lay  in  it,  might  be  made  ;  noth- 
ing more.  But  to  tell  the  various  Histories  of  those  va- 
rious Diamonds,  from  the  first  making  of  them  ;  or  even, 
omitting  all  the  rest,  from  the  first  digging  of  them  in 
the  far  Indian  mines !     How  they  lay,   for  uncounted 

20  ages  and  £eons  (under  the  uproar  and  splashing  of  such 
Deucalion  Deluges,  and  Hutton  Explosions,  with  steam 
enough,  and  Werner  Submersions),  silently  imbedded 
in  the  rock ;  did  nevertheless,  when  their  hour  came, 
emerge  from  it,  and  first  beheld  the  glorious  Sun  smile 

25  on  them,  and  with  their  many-colored  glances  smile  back 
on  hiift.  How  they  served  next,  let  us  say,  as  eyes  of 
Heathen  Idols,  and  received  worship.  How  they  had 
then,  by  fortune  of  war  or  theft,  been  knocked  out  ;  and 
exchanged  among  camp-sutlers  for  a  little  spirituous 
liquor,  and  bought  by  Jews,  and  worn  as  signets  on  the 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  49 

fingers  of  tawny  or  white  Majesties ;  and  again  been 
lost,  with  the  fingers  too,  and  perhaps  life  (as  by  Charles 
the  Rash,  among  the  mud-ditches  of  Nancy),  in  old-for- 
gotten glorious  victories  :  and  so,  through  innumerable 
varieties  of  fortune.  —  had  come  at  last  to  the  cutting-  5 
wheel  of  Boehmer ;  to  be  united,  in  strange  fellowship, 
with  comrades  also  blown  together  from  all  ends  of  the 
Earth,  each  with  a  liistory  of  its  own !  Could  these 
aged  stones,  the  youngest  of  them  Six  Thousand  years 
of  age  and  upwards,  but  have  spoken,  there  were  an  10 
Experience  for  Philosophy  to  teach  by  !  —  But  now,  as 
was  said,  by  little  caps  of  gold,  and  daintiest  rings  of 
the  same,  they  are  all  being,  so  to  speak,  enlisted  under 
Boehmer's  flag, — made  to  take  rank  and  file,  in  new 
order,  no  Jewel  asking  his  neighbor  whence  he  came ;  15 
and  parade  there  for  a  season.  For  a  season  only  ;  and 
then  —  to  disperse,  and  enlist  anew  ad  injinitum.  In 
such  inexplicable  wise  are  Jewels,  and  Men  also,  and 
indeed  all  earthly  things,  jumbled  together  and  asunder, 
and  shovelled  and  wafted  to  and  fro,  in  our  inexplicable  20 
chaos  of  a  World.  This  was  what  Boehmer  called  mak- 
ing his  Necklace. 

So,  in  fact,  do  other  men  speak,  and  with  even  less 
reason.  How  many  men,  for  example,  hast  thou  heard 
talk  of  making  money ;  of  making,  say,  a  million  and  a  25 
half  of  money :  Of  which  million  and  a  half,  how  much 
if  one  were  to  look  into  it,  had  they  made  ?  The  accu- 
rate value  of  their  Industry ;  not  a  sixpence  more. 
Their  making,  then,  was  but,  like  Boehmer's,  a  clutching 
and  heaping  together  ;  —  by-and-by  to  be  followed  also 


50  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

by  a  dispersion.  Made  ?  Thou  too  vain  individual ! 
■were  these  towered  ashlar  edifices ;  were  these  fair 
bounteous  leas,  with  their  bosky  umbrages  and  yellow 
harvests ;  and  the  sunshine  that  lights  them  from  above, 
5  and  the  granite  rocks  and  fire-reservoirs  that  support 
them  from  below,  made  by  thee  ?  I  think,  by  another. 
The  very  shilling  that  thou  hast  was  dug,  by  man's 
force,  in  Carinthia  and  Paraguay  ;  smelted  sufficiently ; 
and  stamped,  as  would  seem,  not  without  the  advice  of 

10  our  late  Defender  of  the  Faith,  his  Majesty  George  the 
Fourth.  Thou  hast  it,  and  boldest  it ;  but  whether,  or 
ifi  what  sense,  thou  hast  made  any  farthing  of  it,  thy- 
self canst  not  say.  If  the  courteous  reader  ask.  What 
things,  then,  are  made  by    man  ?    I   will  answer  him, 

15  Very  few  indeed.  A  Heroism,  a  Wisdom  (a  god-given 
Volition  that  has  realized  itself),  is  made  now  and  then : 
for  example,  some  five  or  six  Books,  since  the  Creation, 
have  been  made.  Strange  that  there  are  not  more :  for 
surely  every  encouragement  is  held  out.      Could  I,  or 

20  thou,  happy  reader,  but  make  one,  the  world  would  let 
us  keep  it  unstolen  for  Fourteen  whole  years,  —  and 
take  what  we  could  get  for  it. 

But,  in  a  word.  Monsieur  Boehraer  has  made  his  Neck- 
lace, what  he  calls  made  it :  happy  man  is  he.     From  a 

25  Drawing,  as  large  as  reality,  kindly  furnished  by  "Tau- 
nay,  Printseller,  of  the  Rue  d'Enfer ;  "  and  again,  in  late 
years,  by  the  Abbe  Georgel,  in  the  Second  Volume  of 
his  Memoires  curious  readers  can  still  fancy  to  them- 
selves what  a  princely  Ornament  it  was.  A  row  of 
seventeen  glorious  diamonds,  as  large  almost  as  filberts, 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  51 

encircle,  not  too  tightly,  the  neck,  a  first  time.  Looser, 
gracefully  fastened  thrice  to  these,  a  three-wreathed 
festoon,  and  pendants  enough  (simple  pear-shaped,  mul- 
tiple star-shaped,  or  clustering  amorphous)  encircle  it, 
enwreath  it,  a  second  time.  Loosest  of  all,  softly  flow-  5 
ing  round  from  behind  in  priceless  catenary,  rush  down 
two  broad  threefold  rows ;  seem  to  knot  themselves, 
round  a  very  Queen  of  Diamonds,  on  the  bosom ;  then 
rush  on,  again  separated,  as  if  there  were  length  in 
plenty ;  the  very  tassels  of  them  were  a  fortune  for  10 
some  men.  And  now  lastly,  two  other  inexpressible 
threefold  rows,  also  with  their  tassels,  will,  when  the 
Necklace  is  on  and  clasped,  unite  themselves  behind  into 
a  doubly  inexpressible  sia^fold  row ;  and  so  stream  down, 
together  or  asunder,  over  the  hind-rneck,  —  we  may  fancy,  15 
like  lambent  Zodiacal  or  Aurora-Borealis  fire. 

All  these  on  a  neck  of  snow  slight-tinged  with  rose- 
bloom,  and  within  it  royal  Life  :  amidst  the  blaze  of 
lustres ;  in  sylphish  movements,  espiegleries,  coquet- 
teries,  and  minuet-mazes ;  with  every  movement  a  20 
flash  of  star-rainbow  colors,  bright  almost  as  the  move- 
ments of  the  fair  young  soul  it  emblems  I  A  glorious 
ornament ;  fit  only  for  the  Sultana  of  the  World.  In- 
deed, only  attainable  by  such ;  for  it  is  valued  at 
1,800,000  livres ;  say  in  round  numbers,  and  sterling  25 
money,  between  eighty  and  ninety  thousand  pounds. 


62         -  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THB   NECKLACE   CANNOT   BE   SOLD. 

Miscalculating  Boehmer  !  The  Sultana  of  the  Earth 
shall  never  wear  that  Necklace  of  thine  ;  no  neck,  either 
royal  or  vassal,  shall  ever  be  the  lovelier  for  it.  In  the 
present  distressed  state  of  our  finances,  with  the  Ameri- 

6  can  War  raging  round  us,  where  thinkest  thou  are  eighty- 
thousand  pounds  to  be  raised  for  such  a  thing  ?  In  this 
hungry  world,  thou  fool,  these  five  hundred  and  odd 
Diamonds,  good  only  for  looking  at,  are  intrinsically 
worth  less  to  us   than  a  string  of  as   many  dry  Irish 

10  potatoes,  on  which  a  famishing  Sansculotte  might  fill  his 
belly.  Little  knowest  thou,  laughing  Joaillier-Bijoutier, 
great  in  thy  pride  of  place,  in  thy  pride  of  savoir-faire, 
what  the  world  has  in  store  for  thee.  Thou  laughest 
there ;  by-and-by  thou  wilt  laugh  on  the  wrong  side  of 

15  thy  face  mainly. 

While  the  Necklace  lay  in  stucco  effigy,  and  the  stones 
of  it  were  still  "  circulating  in  Commerce,"  Du  Barry's 
was  the  neck  it  was  meant  for.  Unhappily,  as  all  dogs 
male  and  female,  have  but  their  day,  her  day  is  done ; 

20  and  now  (so  busy  has  Death  been)  she  sits  retired,  on 
mere  half  pay,  without  prospects,  at  Saint-Cyr.  A  gen- 
erous  France   will  buy  no    more    neck-ornaments    for 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  53 

her: — 0  Heaven!  the  Guillotine-axe  is  already  forging 
(IvTorth,  in  Swedish  Dalecarlia,  by  sledge-hammers  and 
fire ;  South  too,  by  taxes  and  tallies)  that  will  shear  her 
neck  in  twain ! 

But,  indeed,  what  of  Du  Barry  ?  A  foul  worm ;  r> 
hatched  by  royal  heat,  on  foul  composts,  into  a  flaunt- 
ing butterfly  ;  now  diswinged,  and  again  a  worm  !  Are 
there  not  Kings'  Daughters  and  Kings'  Consorts ;  is  not 
Decoration  the  first  wish  of  a  female  heart,  —  often  also, 
if  such  heart  is  empty,  the  last  ?  The  Portuguese  Am-  lO 
bassador  is  here,  and  his  rigorous  l*ombal  is  no  longer 
Minister :  there  is  an  Infanta  in  Portugal,  purposing  by 
Heaven's  blessing  to  wed,  —  Singular !  the  Portuguese 
Ambassador,  though  without  fear  of  Pombal,  praises, 
but  will  not  purchase.  15 

Or  why  not  our  own  loveliest  Marie-Antoinette,  once 
Dauphiuess  only  ;  now  every  inch  a  Queen  :  what  neck 
in  the  whole  Earth  would  it  beseem  better  ?  It  is  fit 
only  for  her. — Alas,  Boehmer!  King  Louis  has  an  eye 
for  diamonds ;  but  he  too  is  without  overplus  of  money :  20 
his  high  Queen  herself  answers  queenlike,  ''  We  have 
more  need  of  Seventy-fours  than  of  Necklaces."  Lau- 
datur  et  alget !  —  Not  without  a  qualmish  feeling,  we 
apply  next  to  the  Queen  and  King  of  the  Two  Sicilies. 
In  vain,  0  Boehmer !  In  crowned  heads  there  is  no  hope  25 
for  thee.  Not  a  crowned  head  of  them  can  spare  the 
eighty  thousand  pounds.  The  age  of  Chivalry  is  gone, 
and  that  of  Bankruptcy  is  come.  A  dull,  deep,  presa- 
ging movement  rocks  all  thrones  :  Bankruptcy  is  beating 
down  the  gate,  and  no  Chancellor  can  longer  barricade 


54  THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

her  out.  She  will  enter;  and  the  shoreless  fire-lava  of 
Democracy  is  at  her  back  !  Well  may  Kings,  a  second 
time,  "  sit  still  with  awful  eye,"  and  think  of  far  other 
things  than  Necklaces. 

5  Thus  for  poor  Boehmer  are  the  mournfullest  days  and 
nights  appointed  ;  and  this  high-promising  year  (1780,  as 
we  laboriously  guess  and  gather)  stands  blacker  than  all 
others  in  his  calendar.  In  vain  shall  he,  on  his  sleepless 
pillow,  more  and  more  desperately  revolve  the  problem ; 

10  it  is  a  problem  of  tlie  insoluble  sort,  a  true  "  irreducible 
case  of  Cardan : "  the  Diamond  Necklace  will  not  sell. 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  66 


CHAPTEE   IV. 

AFFINITES  :    THE    TWO    FIXED-IDEAS. 

Nevertheless,  a  man's  little  Work  lies  not  isolated, 
stranded ;  a  whole  busy  World,  a  whole  native-element 
of  mysterious  never-resting  Force,  environs  it ;  will  catch 
,  it  up  ;  will  carry  it  forward,  or  else  backward :  always, 
infallibly,  either  as  living  growth,  or  at  worst  as  well-  5 
rotted  manure,  the  Thing  Done  will  come  to  use.  Often, 
accordingly,  for  a  man  that  had  finished  any  little  work, 
this  were  the  most  interesting  question  :  In  such  a 
boundless  whirl  of  a  world,  what  hook  will  it  be,  and 
what  hooks,  that  shall  catch  up  this  little  work  of  mine ;  10 
and  whirl  it  also,  —  through  such  a  dance  ?  A  question, 
we  need  not  say,  which,  in  the  simplest  of  cases,  would 
bring  the  whole  Eoyal  Society  to  a  nonplus.  —  Good 
Corsican  Letitia !  while  thou  nursesb  thy  little  Napoleon, 
and  he  answers  thy  mother-smile  with  those  deep  eyes  15 
of  his,  a  world-famous  French  Revolution,  with  Federa- 
tions of  the  Champ  de  Mars,  and  September  Massacres, 
and  Bakers'  Customers  en  queue,  is  getting  ready :  many 
a  Danton  and  Desmoulins ;  prim-visaged,  Tartuffe-look- 
ing  Robespierre,  as  yet  all  schoolboys ;  and  Marat  20 
weeping  bitter  rheum,  as  he  pounds  horsedrugs,  —  are 
preparing  the  fittest  arena  for  him  ! 


56  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

Thus  too,  while  poor  Boehraer  is  busy  with  those  Dia- 
monds of  his,  picking  them  "  out  of  Commerce,"  and  his 
craftsmen  are  grinding  and  setting  them ;  a  certain 
ecclesiastical  Coadjutor  and  Grand  Almoner,  and  pros- 

5  pective  Commendator  and  Cardinal,  is  in  Austria,  hunt- 
ing and  giving  suppers ;  for  whom  mainly  it  is  that 
Boehmer  and  his  craftsmen  so  employ  themselves. 
Strange  enough,  once  more!  The  foolish  Jeweller  at 
Paris,  making  foolish  trinkets ;  the  foolish  Ambassador 

10  at  Vienna,  making  blunders  and  debaucheries :  these 
Two,  all  uncommunicating,  wide  asunder  as  the  Poles, 
are  hourly  forging  for  each  other  the  wonderfullest 
hook-and-eye  ;  which  will  hook  them  together,  one  day, 
—  into  artificial  Siamese-Twins,  for  the  astonishment  of 

la  mankind. 

Prince  Louis  de  Rohan  is  one  of  those  select  mortals 
born  to  honors,  as  the  sparks  fly  upwards ;  and,  alas, 
also  (as  all  men  are)  to  troubles  no  less.  Of  his  genesis 
and  descent  much  might  be  said,  by  the  curious  in  such 

20  matters  ;  yet  perhaps,  if  we  weigh  it  well,  intrinsically 
little.  He  can,  by  diligence  and  faith,  be  traced  back 
some  handbreadth  or  two,  some  century  or  two ;  but  after 
that,  merges  in  the  mere  "  blood-royal  of  Brittany ;  " 
long,  long  on  this  side  of  the  Northern  Immigrations,  he 

25  is  not  so  much  as  to  be  sought  for ;  —  and  leaves  the 
whole  space  onwards  from  that,  into  the  bosom  of  Eter- 
nity, a  blank,  marked  only  by  one  point,  the  Fall  of 
Man !  However,  and  what  alone  concerns  us,  his  kin- 
dred, in  these  quite  recent  times,  have  been  much  about 
the  Most  Christian  Majesty ;  could  there  pick  up  what 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  57 

was  going.  In  particular,  they  have  had  a  turn  of  some 
continuance  for  Cardinalship  and  Commendatorship. 
Safest  trades  these,  of  the  calm,  do-nothing  sort :  in  the 
do-something  line,  in  Generalship,  or  such  like  (witness 
poor  Cousin  Soubise,  at  Rosbach),  they  might  not  fare  5 
so  well.  In  any  case,  the  actual  Prince  Louis,  Coadjutor 
at  Strasburg,  while  his  uncle  the  Cardinal-Archbishop 
has  not  yet  deceased,  and  left  him  his  dignities,  but  only 
fallen  sick,  already  takes  his  place  on  one  grandest 
occasion :  he,  thrice-happy  Coadjutor,  receives  the  fair,  10 
young,  trembling  Dauphiness,  Marie- Antoinette,  on  her 
first  entrance  into  France  ;  and  can  there,  as  Ceremonial 
Fugleman,  with  fit  bearing  and  semblance  (being  a  tall 
man,  of  six-and-thirty),  do  the  needful.  Of  his  other 
performances  up  to  this  date,  a  refined  History  had  rather  15 
say  nothing. 

In  fact,  if  the  tolerating  mind  will  meditate  it  with  any 
sympathy,  what  could  poor  Rohan  perform  ?  Perform- 
ing needs  light,  needs  strength,  and  a  firm  clear  footing ; 
all  of  which  had  been  denied  him.  Nourished,  from  20 
birth,  with  the  choicest  physical  spoon-meat,  indeed ; 
yet  also,  with  no  better  spiritual  Doctrine  and  Evangel 
of  Life  than  a  French  Court  of  Louis  the  Well-beloved 
could  yield  ;  gifted  moreover,  and  this  too  was  but  a  new 
perplexity  for  him,  with  shrewdness  enough  to  see  25 
through  much,  with  vigor  enough  to  despise  much; 
unhappily,  not  with  vigor  enough  to  spurn  it  from  him, 
and  be  forever  enfranchised  of  it,  —  he  awakes,  at  man's 
stature,  with  man's  wild  desires,  in  a  World  of  the  merest 
incoherent  Lies  and  Delirium ;  himself  a  nameless  Mass 


58  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

of  delirious  Incoherences,  —  covered  over  at  most,  and 
held  in  a  little,  by  conventional  Politesse,  and  a  Cloak 
of  prospective  Cardinal's  Plush.  Are  not  intrigues, 
might  Rohan  say,  the  industry  of  this  our  Universe  ;  nay, 
5  is  not  the  Universe  itself,  at  bottom,  properly  an  in- 
trigue? A  Most  Christian  Majesty,  in  the  Parc-aux- 
cerfs  ;  he,  thou  seest,  is  the  god  of  this  lower  world ;  in  the 
fight  of  Life,  our  war-banner  and  celestial  En-touto-nika 
is  a  Strumpet's  Petticoat :  these  are  thy  gods,  0  France  ! 

10  —  What,  in  such  singular  circumstances,  could  poor 
Rohan's  creed  and  world-theory  be,  that  he  should  "  per- 
form "  thereby  ?  Atheism  ?  Alas,  no  ;  not  even  Athe- 
ism :  only  Machiavellism  ;  and  the  indestructible  faith 
that  "ginger  is  hot  in  the  mouth."     Get  ever  new  and 

16  better  ginger,  therefore ;  chew  it  ever  the  more  dili- 
gently :  'tis  all  thou  hast  to  look  to,  and  that  only  for  a 
day. 

Ginger  enough,  poor  Louis  de  Rohan  :    too  much  of 
ginger !     Whatsoever  of  it,  for  the  five  senses,  money, 

20  or  money's  worth,  or  backstairs  diplomacy,  can  buy  ; 
nay  for  the  sixth  sense  too,  the  far  spicier  ginger.  Ante- 
cedence of  thy  fellow-creatures,  —  merited,  at  least,  by 
infinitely  finer  housing  than  theirs.  Coadjutor  of  Stras- 
burg,   Archbishop    of    Strasburg,    Grand    Almoner    of 

25  France,  Commander  of  the  Order  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
Cardinal  Commendator  of  St.  Wast  d' Arras  (one  of  the 
fattest  benefices  here  below)  :  all  these  shall  be  housings 
for  Monseigneur  :  to  all  these  shall  his  Jesuit  Nursing- 
mother,  our  vulpine  Abbe  Georgel,  through  fair  court- 
weather  and  through  foul,  triumphantly  bear  him ;  and 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  69 

wrap  him  with  them,  fat,  somnolent  Nursling  as  he  is. 

—  By  the  way,  a  most  assiduous,  ever-wakeful  Abb6  is 
this  Georgel ;  and  wholly  Monseigneur's.  He  has  scouts 
dim-flying,  far  out,  in  the  great  deep  of  the  world's  busi- 
ness ;  has  spider-threads  that  overnet  the  whole  world ;  5 
himself  sits  in  the  centre,  ready  to  run.  In  vain  shall 
King  and"  Queen  combine  against  Monseigneur  :  "  I  was 
at  M.  de  Maurepas'  pillow  before  six,"  —  persuasively 
wagging  my  sleek  coif,  and  the  sleek  reynard-head  under 

it ;  I  managed  it  all  for  him.     Here  too,  on  occasion  of  10 
Keynard  Georgel,  we  could  not  but  reflect  what  a  sin- 
gular species  of  creature  your  Jesuit  must  have  been. 
Outwardly,  you  would  say,  a  man  ;  the  smooth  semblance 
of  a  man :    inwardly,  to  the  centre,  filled  with   stone ! 
Yet  in  all  breathing  things,  even  in  stone   Jesuits,  are  15 
inscrutable  sympathies  :  how  else  does  a  Eeynard  Abbe 
so  loyally  give  himself,  soul  and  body,  to  a  somnolent 
Monseigneur ;  —  how   else   does   the    poor    Tit,  to   the 
neglect  of  its  own  eggs  and  interests,  nurse  up  a  huge 
lumbering  Cuckoo ;  and  think  its  pains  all  paid,  if  the  20 
sootbrown  Stupidity  will  merely  grow  bigger  and  bigger  ! 

—  Enough,  by  Jesuitic  or  other  means,  Prince  Louis  de 
Rohan  shall  be  passively  kneaded  and  baked  into  Com- 
mendator  of  St.  Wast  and  much  else ;  and  truly  such  a 
Commendator  as  hardly,  since  King  Thierri,  first  of  the  25 
Faineans,  founded  that  Establishment,  has  played  his 
part  there. 

Such,  however,  have  Nature  and  Art  combined  to- 
gether to  make  Prince  Louis.  A  figure  thrice-clothed 
with  honors  ;  with  plush,  and  civic  and  ecclesiastic  gar- 


60  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

niture  of  all  kinds ;  but  in  itself  little  other  than  an 
amorphous  congeries  of  contradictions,  somnolence  and 
violence,  foul  passions  and  foul  habits.  It  is  by  his 
plush  cloaks  and  wrappages  mainly,  as  above  hinted,  that 

5  such  a  figure  sticks  together :  what  we  call  "  coheres," 
in  any  measure  ;  were  it  not  for  these,  he  would  flow  out 
boundlessly  on  all  sides.  Conceive  him  farther,  with 
a  kind  of  radical  vigor  and  fire,  for  he  can  see  clearly 
at  times,  and  speak  fiercely ;    yet  left  in  this  way  to 

10  stagnate  and  ferment,  and  lie  overlaid  with  such  floods 
of  fat  material :  have  we  not  a  true  image  of  the  shame- 
fullest  Mud-volcano,  gurgling  and  sluttishly  simmering, 
amid  continual  steamy  indistinctness,  —  except  as  was 
hinted,   in  wind-gusts;  with  occasional   terrifico-absurd 

15  mud-explosions  ! 

This,  garnish  it  and  fringe  it  never  so  handsomely,  is, 
alas,  the  intrinsic  character  of  Prince  Louis.  A  shame- 
ful spectacle :  such,  however,  as  the  world  has  beheld 
many  times ;  as  it  were  to  be  wished,  but  is  not  yet  to 

20  be  hoped,  the  world  might  behold  no  more.  Nay,  are  not 
all  possible  delirious  incoherences,  outward  and  inward, 
summed  up,  for  poor  Rohan,  in  this  one  incrediblest 
incoherence,  that  he,  Prince  Louis  de  Rohan,  is  named 
Priest,  Cardinal  of  the  Church  ?     A  debauched,  merely 

25  libidinous  mortal,  lying  there  quite  helpless,  c?issolute 
(as  we  well  say)  ;  whom  to  see  Church  Cardinal,  sym- 
bolical Hinge  or  main  Corner  of  the  Invisible  Holy  in 
this  World,  an  Inhabitant  of  Saturn  might  split  with 
laughing,  —  if  he  did  not  rather  swoon  with  pity  and 
horror ! 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  61 

Prince  Louis,  as  ceremonial  fugleman  at  Strasburg, 
might  have  hoped  to  make  some  way  with  the  fair  young 
Dauphiness  ;  but  seems  not  to  have  made  any.  Perhaps, 
in  those  great  days,  so  trying  for  a  fifteen-years  Bride 
and  Dauphiness,  the  fair  Antoinette  was  too  preoccu-  5 
pied  :  perhaps,  in  the  very  face  and  looks  of  Prospective- 
Cardinal  Prince  Louis,  her  fair  young  soul  read,  all 
unconsciously,  an  incoherent  Roue-ism,  bottomless  Mud- 
volcanoism ;  from  which  she  by  instinct  rather  recoiled. 

However,  as  above  hinted,  he  is  now  gone,  in  these  10 
years,  on  Embassy  to  Vienna :    with  "  four-and-twenty 
pages  "  (if  our  remembrance  of  Abbe  Georgel  serve)  "  of 
noble  birth,"  all  in  scarlet  breeches  ;  and  such  a  retinue 
and  parade  as  drowns  even  his  fat  revenue  in  perennial 
debt.     Above  all  things,  his  Jesuit  Familiar  is  with  him.  16 
For  so  everywhere  they  must  manage :  Eminence  Rohan 
is  the  cloak,  Jesuit  Georgel  the  man  or  automaton  within 
it.     Rohan,  indeed,  sees  Poland  a-partitioning ;  or  rather 
Georgel,  with  his  "  masked  Austrian "  traitor  "  on  the 
ramparts,"  sees  it  for  him :  but  what  can  he  do  ?     He  20 
exhibits    his  four-and-twenty  scarlet  pages, — who,  we 
find,  "  smuggle  "  to  quite  unconscionable  lengths  ;  rides 
through    a    Catholic     procession,    Prospective-Cardinal 
though  he  be,  because  it  is  too  long  and  keeps  him  from 
an  appointment ;  hunts,  gallants ;  gives  suppers,  Sarda-  25 
napalus-wise,  the  finest  ever  seen   in  Vienna.      Abb6 
Georgel,  as  we  fancy  it  was,  writes  a  Despatch  in  his 
name  "  every  fortnight ; "  —  mentions  in  one  of  these, 
that  "  Maria  Theresa  stands,  indeed,  with  the  handker- 


62  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

chief  in  one  hand,  weepiag  for  the  woes  of  Poland  ;  but 
with  the  sword  in  the  other  hand,  ready  to  cut  Poland 
in  sections,  and  take  her  share."  Untimely  joke  ;  which 
proved   to   Prince  Louis  the  root  of   unspeakable  cha- 

5  grins !  For  Minister  D'Aiguillon  (much  against  his 
duty)  communicates  the  Letter  to  King  Louis  ;  Louis  to 
Du  Barry,  to  season  her  souper,  and  laughs  over  it :  the 
thing  becomes  a  court  joke  ;  the  filially-pious  Dauphiness 
hears  it,  and  remembers  it.     Accounts  go,  moreover,  that 

10  Rohan  spake  censuringly  of  the  Dauphiness  to  her 
Mother :  this  probably  is  but  hearsay  and  false ;  the 
devout  Maria  Theresa  disliked  him,  and  even  despised 
him,  and  vigorously  labored  for  his  recall. 

Thus,  in  rosy  sleep  and  somnambulism,  or  awake  only 

15  to  quaff  the  full  wine  cup  of  the  Scarlet  Woman  his 
Mother,  and  again  sleep  and  somnambulate,  does  the 
Prospective-Cardinal  and  Commendator  pass  his  days. 
Unhappy  man !  This  is  not  a  world  which  was  made  in 
sleep ;  which  it  is  safe  to  sleep  and  somnambulate  in. 

20  In  that "  loud-roaring  Loom  of  Time  "  (where  above  nine 
hundred  millions  of  hungry  Men,  for  one  item,  restlessly 
weave  and  work),  so  many  threads  fly  humming  from 
their  "  eternal  spindles ;  "  and  swift  invisible  shuttles,  far 
darting,  to  the  Ends  of  the  World,  —  complex  enough ! 

25  At  this  hour,  a  miserable  Boehmer  in  Paris,  whom  thou 
wottest  not  of,  is  spinning,  of  diamonds  and  gold,  a  pal- 
try thrum  that  will  go  nigh  to  strangle  the  life  out  of  thee. 

Meanwhile  Louis  the  Well-beloved  has  left,  forever, 
his    Parc-aux-cerfs ;    and,  amid    the    scarce-suppressed 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  63 

hootings  of  the  world,  taken  up  his  last  lodging  at  St. 
Denis.  Feeling  that  it  was  all  over  (for  the  small-pox 
has  the  victory,  and  even  Du  Barry  is  off),  he,  as  the 
Abb6  Georgel  records,  "made  the  amende  honorable  to 
God  "  (these  are  his  Reverence's  own  words) ;  had  a  true  5 
repentance  of  three  days'  standing  ;  and  so,  continues 
the  Abbe,  "  fell  asleep  in  the  Lord."  Asleep  in  the 
Lord,  Monsieur  I'Abbe  !  If  such  a  mass  of  Laziness  and 
Lust  fell  asleep  in  the  Lord,  tvho,  fanciest  thou,  is  it 
that  falls  asleep  —  elsewhere  ?  Enough  that  he  did  fall  lO 
asleep ;  that  thick-wrapt  in  the  Blanket  of  the  Night, 
under  what  keeping  we  ask  not,  he  never  through  end- 
less Time  can,  for  his  own  or  our  sins,  insult  the  face  of 
the  Sun  any  more  ;  —  and  so  now  we  go  onward,  if  not 
to  less  degrees  of  beastliness,  yet  at  least  and  worst,  to  15 
cheering  varieties  of  it. 

Louis  XVI.  therefore  reigns  (and,  under  the  Sieur  Ga- 
main,  makes  locks)  ;  his  fair  Dauphiness  has  become  a 
Queen.  Eminence  Rohan  is  home  from  Vienna  ;  to  con- 
dole and  congratulate.  He  bears  a  letter  from  Maria  20 
Theresa ;  hopes  the  Queen  will  not  forget  old  Ceremonial 
Fuglemen,  and  friends  of  the  Dauphiness.  Heaven  and 
Earth !  The  Dauphiness  Queen  will  not  see  him  ;  orders 
the  Letter  to  be  sent  her.  The  King  himself  signifies 
briefly  that  he  "  will  be  asked  for  when  wanted  !  "  2" 

Alas  !  at  Court,  our  motion  is  the  delicatest,  unsurest. 
We  go  spinning,  as  it  were,  on  teetotums,  by  the  edges 
of  bottomless  deeps.  Rest  is  fall ;  so  is  one  false  whirl. 
A  moment  ago,  Eminence  Rohan  seemed  waltzing  with 
the  best :  but,  behold,  his  teetotum  has  carried  him  over; 


64  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

there  is  an  inversion  of  the  centre  of  gravity ;  and  so 
now,  heels  uppermost,  velocity  increasing  as  the  time, 
space  as  the  square  of  the  time,  —  he  rushes. 

On  a  man  of  poor  Rohan's  somnolence  and  violence, 
6  the  sympathizing  mind  can  estimate  what  the  effect  was. 
Consternation,  stupefaction,  the  total  jumble  of  blood, 
brains  and  nervous  spirits  ;  in  ear  and  heart,  only  uni- 
versal hubbub  and  louder  and  louder  singing  of  the  agi- 
tated air.     A  fall  comparable  to  that  of  Satan !     Men 

10  have,  indeed,  been  driven  from  Court ;  and  borne  it, 
according  to  ability.  Choiseul,  in  these  very  years, 
retired  Parthianlike,  with  a  smile  or  scowl ;  and  drew 
half  the  Court-host  along  with  him.  Our  Wolsey, 
though  once  an  Ego  et  Bex  metis,  could  journey,  it  is 

15  said,  without  strait-waistcoat,  to  his  monastery ;  and 
there  telling  beads,  look  forward  to  a  still  longer  jour- 
ney. The  melodious,  too  soft-strung  Racine,  when  his 
King  turned  his  back  on  him,  emitted  one  meek  wail, 
and  submissively  —  died.     But  the  case  of  Coadjutor  de 

20  Rohan  differed  from  all  these.  No  loyalty  was  in  him, 
that  he  should  die ;  no  self-help,  that  he  should  live ; 
no  faith,  that  he  should  tell  beads.  His  is  a  mud- vol- 
canic character  ;  incoherent,  mad,  from  the  very  founda- 
tion of  it.     Think  too,  that  his  Courtiership  (for  how 

25  could  any  nobleness  enter  there  ?)  was  properly  a  gam- 
bling speculation  :  the  loss  of  his  trump  Queen  of  Hearts 
can  bring  nothing  but  flat  unredeemed  despair.  No 
other  game  has  he,  in  this  world,  —  or  in  the  next.  And 
then  the  exasperating  Why?  The  Hotv  came  it?  For 
that  Rohanic,  or  Georgelic,  sprightliness  of  the  "hand- 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  65 

kerchief  in  one  hand,  and  sword  in  the  other,"  if  indeed 
that  could  have  caused  it  all,  has  quite  escaped  him. 
In  the  name  of  Friar  Bacon's  Head,  ivhat  was  it  ? 
Imagination,  with  Desperation  to  drive  her,  may  fly- 
to  all  points  of  Space ;  —  and  returns  with  wearied  5 
wings,  and  no  tidings.  Behold  me  here :  this,  which  is 
the  first  grand  certainty  for  man  in  general,  is  the  first 
and  last  and  only  one  for  poor  Rohan.  And  then  his 
Here!  Alas,  looking  upwards,  he  can  eye,  from  his 
burning  marl,  the  azure  realms,  once  his  ;  and  Cousin  10 
Countess  de  Marsan,  and  so  many  Richelieus,  Polignacs, 
and  other  happy  angels,  male  and  female,  all  blissfully 
gyrating  there  ;   while  he  — ! 

Nevertheless  hope,  in  the  human  breast,  though  not 
in  the  diabolic,  springs  eternal.  The  outcast  Rohan  15 
bends  all  his  thoughts,  faculties,  prayers,  purposes,  to 
one  object ;  one  object  he  will  attain,  or  go  to  Bedlam. 
How  many  ways  he  tries ;  what  days  and  nights  of  con- 
jecture, consultation ;  what  written  unpublished  reams 
of  correspondence,  protestation,  backstairs  diplomacy  of  20 
every  rubric !  How  many  suppers  has  he  eaten ;  how 
many  given,  —  in  vain  !  It  is  his  morning  song,  and 
his  evening  prayer.  From  innumerable  falls  he  rises ; 
only  to  fall  again.  Behold  him  even,  with  his  red 
stockings,  at  dusk,  in  the  Garden  of  Trianon  :  he  has  26 
bribed  the  Concierge ;  will  see  her  Majesty  in  spite  of 
Etiquette  and  Fate  ;  peradventure,  pitying  his  long  sad 
King's-evil,  she  will  touch  him  and  heal  him.  In  vain,  — 
says  the  Female  Historian,  Campan.  The  Chariot  of 
Majesty  shoots  rapidly  by,  with  high-plumed  heads  in 


6Q  THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

it ;  Eminence  is  known  by  his  red  stockings,  but  not 
looked  at,  only  laughed  at,  and  left  standing  like  a  Pil- 
lar of  Salt. 

Thus  through  ten  long  years,  of  new  resolve  and  new 

5  despondency,  of  flying  from  Saverne  to  Paris,  and  from 
Paris  to  Saverne,  has  it  lasted ;  hope  deferred  making 
the  heart  sick.  Reynard  Georgel  and  Cousin  de  Marsan, 
by  eloquence,  by  influence,  and  being  "  at  M.  de  Maure- 
pas'  pillow  before  six,"  have  secured  the  Archbishropric, 

10  the  Grand  Almonership ;  the  Cardinalship  (by  the 
medium  of  Poland) ;  and,  lastly,  to  tinker  many  rents, 
and  appease  the  Jews,  that  fattest  Commendatorship, 
founded  by  King  Thierri  the  Do-nothing  —  perhaps 
with  a  view  to  such  cases.     All  good  !  languidly  croaks 

15  Rohan ;  yet  all  not  the  one  thing  needful ;  alas,  the 
Queen's  eyes  do  not  yet  shine  on  me. 

Abb6  Georgel  admits,  in  his  own  polite  diplomatic 
way,  that  the  Mud-volcano  was  much  agitated  by  these 
trials ;  and  in  time   quite  changed.     Monseigneur  devi- 

20  ated  into  cabalistic  courses,  after  elixirs,  philtres,  and 
the  philosopher's  stone ;  that  is,  the  volcanic  steam 
grew  thicker  and  heavier  :  at  last  by  Cagliostro's  magic 
(for  Cagliostro  and  the  Cardinal  by  elective  affinity 
must  meet),  it  sank  into  the  opacity  of  perfect  London 

26  fog !  So  too,  if  Monseigneur  grew  choleric,  wrapped 
himself  up  in  reserve,  spoke  roughly  to  his  domestics 
and  dependents,  —  were  not  the  terrifico-absurd  mud- 
explosions  becoming  more  frequent  ?  Alas,  what  won- 
der ?  Some  nine-and-forty  winters  have  now  fled  over 
his  Eminence  (for  it  is  1783),  and  his  beard  falls  white 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  67 

to  the  shaver;  but  age  for  him  brings  no  "benefit  of 
experience."     He  is  possessed  by  a  fixed-idea  ! 

Foolish  Eminence  !  is  the  Earth  grown  all  barren  and 
of  a  snuff  color,  because  one  pair  of  eyes  in  it  look  on 
thee  askance  ?  Surely  thou  hast  thy  Body  there  yet :  5 
and  what  of  soul  might  from  the  first  reside  in  it.  Nay, 
a  warm,  snug  Body,  with  not  only  five  senses  (sound 
still,  in  spite  of  much  tear  and  wear),  but  most  eminent 
clothing,  besides  ;  —  clothed  with  authority  over  much, 
with  red  Cardinal's  cloak,  red  Cardinal's  hat ;  with  10 
Commendatorship,  Grand-Almonership,  so  kind  have 
thy  Fripiers  been ;  with  dignities  and  dominions  too 
tedious  to  name.  The  stars  rise  nightly,  with  tidings 
(for  thee  too,  if  thou  wilt  listen)  from  the  infinite  Blue  ; 
Sun  and  Moon  bring  vicissitudes  of  season  ;  dressing  15 
green,  with  flo we r-borde rings,  and  cloth  of  gold,  this 
ancient  ever-young  Earth  of  ours,  and  filling  her  breasts 
with  all-nourishing  mother's  milk.  Wilt  thou  work  ? 
The  whole  Encyclopaedia  (not  Diderot's  only,  but  the 
Almighty's)  is  there  for  thee  to  spread  thy  broad  faculty  20 
upon.  Or,  if  thou  have  no  faculty,  no  Sense,  hast  thou 
not,  as  already  suggested,  Senses,  to  the  number  of  five  ? 
What  victuals  thou  wishest,  command ;  with  what  wine 
savoreth  thee,  be  filled.  Already  thou  art  a  false  lasciv- 
ious Priest ;  with  revenues  of,  say,  a  quarter  of  a  25 
million  sterling ;  and  no  mind  to  mend.  Eat,  foolish 
Eminence ;  eat  with  voracity,  —  leaving  the  shot  till 
afterwards  !  In  all  this  the  eyes  of  Marie  Antoinette 
can  neither  help  thee  nor  hinder. 

And  yet  what  is  the  Cardinal,  dissolute  mud-volcano 


68  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

though  he  be,  more  foolish  herein,  than  all  Sons  of 
Adam  ?  Give  the  wisest  of  us  once  a  "  fixed-idea,"  — 
which,  though  a  temporary  madness,  who  has  not  had  ? 
—  and  see  where  his  wisdom  is  !     The  Chamois-hunter 

5  serves  his  doomed  seven  years  in  the  Quicksilver  Mines ; 
returns  salivated  to  the  marrow  of  the  backbone ;  and 
next  morning  —  goes  forth  to  hunt  again.  Behold  Car- 
dalion  King  of  Urinals ;  with  a  woful  ballad  to  his  mis- 
tress' eyebrow  !     He  blows  out,  Werter-wise,  his  foolish 

10  existence,  because  she  will  not  have  it  to  keep ;  —  heeds 
not  that  there  are  some  five  hundred  millions  of  other 
mistresses  in  this  noble  Planet ;  most  likely  much  such 
as  she.  0  foolish  men  !  They  sell  their  Inheritance 
(as  their  Mother  did  hers),  though  it  is    Paradise,  for 

15  a  crotchet :  will  they  not,  in  every  age,  dare  not  only 
grapeshot  and  gallows-ropes,  but  Hell-fire  itself,  for  bet- 
ter sauce  to  their  victuals  ?  My  friends,  beware  of  fixed- 
ideas. 

Here,  accordingly,  is  poor  Boehmer  with  one  in  his 

20  head  too  !  He  has  been  hawking  his  "  irreducible  case 
of  Cardan,"  that  Necklace  of  his,  these  three  long  years, 
through  all  Palaces  and  Ambassadors'  Hotels,  over  the 
old  "  nine  Kingdoms,"  or  more  of  them  than  there  now 
are  :  searching,  sifting  Earth,  Sea  and  Air,  for  a  cus- 

25  tomer.  To  take  his  Necklace  in  pieces  ;  and  so,  losing 
only  his  manual  labor  and  expected  glory,  dissolve  his 
fixed-idea,  and  fixed  diamonds,  into  current  ones :  this 
were  simply  casting  out  the  Devil  —  from  himself ;  a 
miracle,  and  perhaps  more !  For  he  too  has  a  Devil,  or 
Devils :  one  mad  object  that  he  strives  at ;  that  he  too 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  69 

will  attain,  or  go  to  Bedlam.  Creditors,  snarling,  hound 
him  on  from  without ;  mocked  Hopes,  lost  Labors,  bear- 
bait  him  from  within ;  to  these  torments  his  fixed-idea 
keeps  him  chained.  In  six-and-thirty  weary  revolutions 
of  the  Moon,  was  it  wonderful  the  man's  brain  had  got  5 
dried  a  little  ? 

Behold,  one  day,  being  Court- Jeweller,  he  too  bursts, 
almost  as  Rohan  had  done,  into  the  Queen's  retirement, 
or  apartment;  flings  himself  (as  Campan  again  has 
recorded)  at  her  Majesty's  feet ;  and  there,  with  clasped  10 
uplifted  hands,  in  passionate  nasal-gutturals,  with  stream- 
ing tears  and  loud  sobs,  entreats  her  to  do  one  of  two 
things  :  Either  to  buy  his  Necklace  ;  or  else  graciously 
to  vouchsafe  him  her  royal  permission  to  drown  himself 
in  the  River  Seine.  Her  Majesty,  pitying  the  distracted  15 
bewildered  state  of  the  man,  calmly  points  out  the  plain 
third  course :  Depecez  voire  Collier,  Take  your  Necklace 
in  pieces ;  —  adding  withal,  in  a  tone  of  queenly  rebuke, 
that  if  he  would  drown  himself,  he  at  all  times  could, 
without  her  furtherance.  20 

Ah,  had  he  drowned  himself,  with  the  Necklace  in 
his  pocket ;  and  Cardinal  Commendator  at  his  skirts  ! 
Kings,  above  all,  beautiful  Queens,  as  far-radiant  Sym- 
bols on  the  pinnacles  of  the  world,  are  so  exposed  to 
madmen.  Should  these  two  fixed-ideas  that  beset  this  25 
beautifullest  Queen,  and  almost  burst  through  her  Palace- 
walls,  one  day  unite,  and  this  not  to  jump  into  the  River 
Seine  :  —  what  maddest  result  may  be  looked  for  ! 


70  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE   ARTIST. 

If  the  reader  has  hitherto,  in  our  too  figurative  lan- 
guage, seen  only  the  figurative  hook  and  the  figurative 
eye,  which  Boehmer  and  Rohan,  far  apart,  were  respec- 
tively fashioning  for  each  other,  he  shall  now  see  the 

5  cunning  Milliner  (an  actual,  unmetaphorical  Milliner)  by 
whom  these  two  individuals,  with  their  two  implements, 
are  brought  in  contact,  and  hooked  together  into  stupen- 
dous artificial  Siamese-Twins ;  —  after  which  the  whole 
nodus  and  solution  will  naturally  combine  and  unfold 

10  itself. 

Jeanne  de  Saint-Remi,  by  courtesy  or  otherwise, 
CouTitess  styled  also  of  Valois,  and  even  of  France, 
has  now,  in  this  year  of  Grace  1783,  known  the  world 
for  some  seven-and-twenty  summers ;  and  had  crooks  in 

15  her  lot.  She  boasts  herself  descended,  by  what  is  called 
natural  generation,  from  the  Blood-Royal  of  France : 
Henri  Second,  before  that  fatal  tourney-lance  entered 
his  right  eye  and  ended  him,  appears  to  have  had, 
successively    or    simultaneously,   four  —  unmentionable 

20  women :  and  so,  in  vice  of  the  third  of  these,  came 
a  certain  Henri  de  Saint-Remi  into  this  world ;  and, 
as  High  and  Puissant  Lord,  ate  his  victuals  and  spent 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  71 

his  days,  on  an  allotted  domain  of  Fontette,  near  Bar- 
sur-Aube,  in  Champagne.  Of  High  and  Puissant  Lords, 
at  this  Fontette,  six  other  generations  followed  ;  and 
thus  ultimately,  in  a  space  of  some  two  centuries, — 
siicceeded  in  realizing  this  brisk  little  Jeanne  de  Saint-  6 
Remi,  here  in  question.  But,  ah,  what  a  falling-off! 
The  Royal  Family  of  France  has  well  nigh  forgotten  its 
left-hand  collaterals :  the  last  High  and  Puissant  Lord 
(much  dipt  by  his  predecessors),  falling  into  drink,  and 
left  by  a  scandalous  world  to  drink  his  pitcher  dry,  had  lo 
to  alienate  by  degrees  his  whole  worldly  Possessions, 
down  almost  to  the  indispensable,  or  inexpressibles  ;  and 
die  at  last  in  the  Paris  Hotel-Dieu ;  glad  that  it  was  not 
on  the  street.  So  that  he  has,  indeed,  given  a  sort 
of  bastard  royal  life  to  little  Jeanne,  and  her  little  15 
brother  ;  but  not  the  smallest  earthly  provender  to  keep 
it  in.  The  mother,  in  her  extremity,  forms  the  won- 
derf ullest  connections ;  and  little  Jeanne,  and  her  little 
brother,  go  out  into  the  highways  to  beg. 

A  charitable  Countess  Boulainvilliers,  struck  with  the  20 
little  bright-eyed  tatterdemalion  from  the  carriage-win- 
dow, picks  her  up ;  has  her  scoured,  clothed  ;  and  rears 
her,  in  her  fluctuating  miscellaneous  way,  to  be,  about 
the  age  of  twenty,  a  nondescript  of  Mantuamaker,  Sou- 
brette,  Court-beggar,  Fine-lady,  Abigail,  and  Scion-of-  25 
Royalty.  Sad  combination  of  trades  !  The  Court,  after 
infinite  soliciting,  puts  one  off  with  a  hungry  dole  of 
little  more  than  thirty  pounds  a-year.  Nay,  the  auda- 
cious Count  Boulainvilliers  dares,  with  what  purposes  he 
knows  best,  to  offer  some  suspicious  presents  !     Where- 


72  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

upon  his  good  Countess,  especially  as  Mantuamaking 
languishes,  thinks  it  could  not  but  be  fit  to  go  down  to 
Bar-sur-Aube ;  and  there  see  whether  no  fractions  of 
that  alienated  Fontette  Property,  lield  perhaps  on  in- 
5  secure  tenure,  may,  by  terror  or  cunning,  be  recoverable. 
Burning  her  paper  patterns,  pocketing  her  pension  till 
more  come.  Mademoiselle  Jeanne  sallies  out  thither,  in 
her  twenty-third  year. 
Nourished  in  this  singular  way,  alternating  between 

10  saloon  and  kitchen-table,  with  the  loftiest  of  pretensions, 
meanest  of  possessions,  our  poor  High  and  Puissant 
Mantuamaker  has  realized  for  herself  a  "  face  not  beau- 
tiful, yet  with  a  certain  piquancy ; "  dark  hair,  blue 
eyes ;  and  a  character,  which  the  present  Writer,  a  de- 

15  termined  student  of  human  nature,  declares  to  be  unde- 
cipherable. Let  the  Psychologists  try  it!  Jeanne  de- 
Saint-Remi  de  Valois  de  France  actually  lived,  and 
worked,  and  was :  she  has  even  published,  at  various 
times,  three   considerable   Volumes   of    Autobiography, 

20  with  loose  Leaves  (in  Courts  of  Justice)  of  unknown 
number;  wherein  he  that  runs  may  read,  —  but  not 
understand.  Strange  Volumes !  more  like  the  screech- 
ing of  distracted  night-birds  (suddenly  disturbed  by  the 
torch  of  Police-Fowlers),  than  the  articulate  utterance 

25  of  a  rational  unfeathered  biped.  Cheerfully  admitting 
these  statements  to  be  all  lies ;  we  ask.  How  any  mor- 
tal could,  or  should,  so  lie  ? 

The  Psychologists,  however,  commit  one  sore  mistake  ; 
that  of  searching,  in  every  character  named  human,  for 
something  like  a  conscience.     Being  mere  contemplative 


THE  DIAMOND  XKCKLACE.  73 

recluses,  for  most  part,  and  feeling  that  jMorality  is  the 
heart  of  Life,  they  judge  that  with  all  the  world  it  is  so. 
Nevertheless,  as  practical  men  are  aware,  Life  can  go  on 
in  excellent  vigor,  without  crotchet  of  that  kind.  What 
is  the  essence  of  Life  ?  Volition  ?  Go  deeper  down,  5 
you  find  a  much  more  universal  root  and  characteristic: 
Digestion.  "While  Digestion  lasts,  Life  cannot,  in  philo- 
sophical language,  be  said  to  be  extinct :  and  Digestion 
will  give  rise  to  Volitions  enough  ;  at  any  rate,  to  De- 
sires and  attempts,  which  may  pass  for  such.  He  who  10 
looks  neither  before  nor  after,  any  farther  than  the 
Larder  and  Stateroom,  which  latter  is  properly  the  finest 
compartment  of  the  Larder,  will  need  no  World-theory, 
Creed  as  it  is  called,  or  Scheme  of  Duties  ;  lightly  leav- 
ing the  world  to  wag  as  it  likes  with  any  theory  or  none,  15 
his  grand  object  is  a  theory  and  practice  of  ways  and 
means.  Not  goodness  or  badness  is  the  type  of  him : 
only  shiftiness  or  shiftlessness. 

And  now,  disburdened  of  this  obstruction,  let  the 
Psychologists  consider  it  under  a  bolder  view.  Consider  20 
the  brisk  Jeanne  de  Saint-Eemi  de  Saint-Shifty  as  a 
Spark  of  vehement  Life,  not  developed  into  Will  of  any 
kind,  yet  fully  into  Desires  of  all  kinds,  and  cast  into 
such  a  Life-element  as  we  have  seen.  Vanity  and  Hun- 
ger ;  a  Princess  of  the  Blood,  yet  whose  father  had  sold  26 
his  inexpressibles  ;  uncertain  whether  fosterdaughter  of 
a  fond  Countess,  with  hopes  skyhigh,  or  supernumerary 
Soubrette ;  with  not  enough  of  mantuamaking :  in  a 
word,  Gigmanity  disgigged  ;  one  of  the  saddest,  pitiable, 
unpitied  predicaments   of  man !    She   is   of  that  light 


74  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

unreflecting  class,  of  that  light  unreflecting  sex  varium 
semper  et  mutahile.  And  then  her  T'ine-ladyism  though 
a  purseless  one  :  capricious,  coquettish,  and  with  all  the 
finer  sensibilities  of  the  heart ;  now  in  the  rackets,  now 
6  in  the  sullens ;  vivid  in  contradictory  resolves ;  laugh- 
ing, weeping,  without  reason,  —  though  these  acts  are 
said  to  be  signs  of  reason.  Consider  too,  how  she  has 
had  to  work  her  way,  all  along,  by  flattery  and  cajolery ; 
wheedling,  eavesdropping,   namby-pambying :   how  she 

10  needs  wages,  and  knows  no  other  productive  trades. 
Thought  can  hardly  be  said  to  exist  in  her :  only  Per- 
ception and  Device.  With  an  understanding  lynx-eyed 
for  the  surface  of  things,  but  which  pierces  beyond  the 
surface  of  nothing ;  every  individual  thing  (for  she  has 

16  never  seized  the  heart  of  it)  turns  up  a  new  face  to  her 
every  new  day,  and  seems  a  thing  changed,  a  different 
thing.  Thus  sits,  or  rather  vehemently  bobs  and  hovers 
her  vehement  mind,  in  the  middle  of  a  boundless  many- 
dancing   whirlpool  of   gilt-shreds,   paper-clippings,   and 

20  windfalls,  — to  which  the  revolving  chaos  of  my  Uncle 
Toby's  Smoke-jack  was  solidity  and  regularity.  Keader! 
thou  for  thy  sins  must  have  met  Avith  such  fair  Irration- 
als ;  fascinating,  with  their  lively  eyes,  with  their  quick 
snappish  fancies ;  distinguished  in  the  higher  circles,  in 

28  Fashion,  even  in  Literature  :  they  hum  and  buzz  there, 
on  graceful  film-Avings  ;  —  searching,  nevertheless,  with 
the  wonderfullest  skill,  for  honey ;  "  wntamable  as 
flies ! " 

Wonderfullest  skill  for  honey,  we   say;    and,  pray, 
mark   that,  as   regards   this   Countess  de  Saint-Shifty. 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  75 

Her  instinct-of-genius  is  prodigious  ;  her  appetite  fierce. 
In  any  foraging  speculation  of  the  private  kind,  she, 
unthinking  as  you  call  her,  will  be  worth  a  hundred 
thinkers.  And  so  of  such  untamable  flies  the  untama- 
blest,  Mademoiselle  Jeanne,  is  now  buzzing  down,  in  the  5 
Bar-sur-Aube  Diligence;  to  inspect  the  honey-jars  of 
Fontette  ;  and  see  and  smell  whether  there  be  any  flaws 
in  them. 

Alas,  at  Fontette,  we  can,  with  sensibility,  behold 
straw-roofs  we  were  nursed  under  ;  farmers  courteously  10 
offer  cooked  milk,  and  other  country  messes :  but  no 
soul  will  part  with  his  Landed  Property,  for  which, 
though  cheap,  he  declares  hard  money  was  paid.  The 
honey-jars  are  all  close,  then  ?  —  However,  a  certain 
Monsieur  de  Lamotte,  a  tall  Gendarme,  home  on  fur- 15 
lough  from  Luneville,  is  now  at  Bar ;  pays  us  attentions ; 
becomes  quite  particular  in  his  attentions,  —  for  we  have 
a  face  "  with  a  certain  piquancy,"  the  liveliest  glib-snap- 
pish tongue,  the  liveliest  kittenish  manner  (not  yet 
hardened  into  ca^-hood),  with  thirty  pounds  a-year,  and  20 
prospects.  M.  de  Lamotte,  indeed,  is  as  yet  only  a  pri- 
vate sentinel ;  but  then  a  private  sentinel  in  the  Gen- 
darmes :  and  did  not  his  father  die  fighting  "  at  the  head 
of  his  company,"  at  Minden  ?  Why  not  in  virtue  of  our 
own  Countesship  dub  him  too  Count ;  by  left-hand  col-  25 
lateralism,  get  him  advanced  ?  — Finished  before  the  fur- 
lough is  done !  The  untamablest  of  flies  has  again 
buzzed  off ;  in  wedlock  with  M.  de  Lamotte  ;  if  not  to 
get  honey,  yet  to  escape  spiders  ;  and  so  lies  in  gar- 
rison at  Luneville,  amid  coquetries  and  hysterics,  in 
Gigmanity  disgigged,  —  disconsolate  enough. 


76  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

At  the  end  of  four  long  years  (too  long),  M.  de  La, 
motte,  or  call  him  now  Count  de  Lamotte,  sees  good  to 
lay  down  his  fighting-gear  (unhappily  still  only  the  mus- 
ket), and  become  what  is  by  certain  moderns  called  "  a 
5  Civilian  :  "  not  a  Civil-Law  Doctor ;  merely  a  Citizen,  one 
who  does  not  live  by  being  killed.  Alas  !  cold  eclipse 
has  all  along  hung  over  the  Lamotte  household.  Coun- 
tess Boulainvilliers,  it  is  true,  writes  in  the  most  feeling 
manner  ;  but  then  the  Royal  Finances  are  so  deranged  ! 

10  Without  personal  pressing  solicitation,  on  the  spot,  no 
Court-solicitor,  were  his  pension  the  meagrest,  can  hope 
to  better  it.  At  Luneville  the  sun,  indeed,  shines  ;  and 
there  is  a  kind  of  Life ;  but  only  an  Un-Parisian,  half  or 
quarter  Life  ;  the  very  tradesmen  grow  clamorous,  and 

15  no  cunningly  devised  fable,  ready-money  alone  will  ap- 
pease them.  Commandant  Marquis  d'Autichamp  agrees 
with  Madame  Boulainvilliers  that  a  journey  to  Paris 
were  the  project ;  whither,  also,  he  himself  is  just  going. 
Perfidious   Commandant   Marquis !      His  plan   is   seen 

20  through :  he  dares  to  presume  to  make  love  to  a  Scion- 
of-Royalty ;  or  to  hint  that  he  could  dare  to  presume  to 
do  it !  Whereupon,  indignant  Count  de  Lamotte,  as  we 
said,  throws  up  his  commission,  and  down  his'  fire-arms, 
without  further  delay.     The  King  loses  a  tall  private 

25  sentinel ;  the  World  has  a  new  black-leg  :  and  Monsieur 
and  Madame  de  Lamotte  take  places  in  the  Diligence  for 
Strasburg. 

Good  Fostermother  Boulainvilliers,  however,  is  no 
longer  at  Strasburg :  she  is  forward  at  the  Archiepisco- 
pal  Palace  in  Saverne  ;  on  a  visit  there,  to  his  Eminence 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  77 

Cardinal  Commendator,  Grand-Almouer  Archbishop 
Prince  Louis  de  Eohan  !  Thus,  then,  has  Destiny  at 
last  brought  it  about.  Thus,  after  long  wanderings,  on 
paths  so  far  separate,  has  the  time  come,  in  this  late 
year  1783,  when,  of  all  the  nine  hundred  millions  of  the  5 
Earth's  denizens,  these  preappointed  Two  behold  each 
other ! 

The  foolish  Cardinal,  since  no  sublunary  means,  not 
even  bribing  of  the  Trianon  Concierge,  will  serve,  has 
taken  to  the  superlunary  :  he  is  here,  with  his  fixed-idea  lO 
and  volcanic  vaporosity  darkening,  under  Cagliostro's 
management,  into  thicker  and  thicker  opaque,  —  of  the 
Black- Art  itself.  To  the  glance  of  hungry  genius.  Car- 
dinal and  Cagliostro  could  not  but  have  meaning.  A 
flush  of  astonishment,  a  sigh  over  boundless  wealth  (for  15 
the  mountains  of  debt  lie  invisible)  in  the  hands  of 
boundless  Stupidity ;  some  vague  looming  of  indefinite 
hope  :  all  this  one  can  well  fancy.  But  alas,  what,  to  a 
high  plush  Cardinal,  is  a  now  insolvent  Scion-of-Eoyalty, 
— though  with  a  face  of  some  piquancy  ?  The  good  20 
Fostermother's  visit,  in  any  case,  can  last  but  three 
days ;  then,  amid  old  namby-pambyings,  with  effusions 
of  the  nobler  sensibilities  and  tears  of  pity  at  least  for 
one's  self.  Countess  de  Lamotte,  and  husband,  must  off 
with  her  to  Paris,  and  new  possibilities  at  Court.  Only  25 
when  the  sky  again  darkens,  can  this  vague  looming 
from  Saverne  look  out,  by  fits,  as  a  cheering  weather- 
sign. 


78  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

WILL    THE   TWO    FIXED-IDEAS    UNITE? 

However,  the  sky,  according  to  custom,  is  not  long  in 
darkening  again.  The  King's  finances,  we  repeat,  are 
in  so  distracted  a  state  !  No  D'Ormesson,  no  Joly  de 
Fleury,  wearied  with  milking  the  already  dry,  will 
5  increase  that  scandalous  Thirty  Pounds  of  a  Scion-of- 
Royalty  by  a  single  doit.  Calonne  himself,  who  has  a 
willing  ear  and  encouraging  word  for  all  mortals  what- 
soever, only  with  difficulty,  and  by  aid  of  Madame  of 
France,   raises  it   to   some   still    miserable    Sixty-five. 

10  Worst  of  all,  the  good  Fostermother  Boulainvilliers,  in 
few  months,  suddenly  dies :  the  wretched  widower,  sit- 
ting there,  with  his  white  handkerchief,  to  receive  con- 
dolences, with  closed  shutters,  mortuary  tapestries,  and 
sepulchral  cressets  burning  (which,  however,  the  instant 

15  the  condolences  are  gone,  he  blows  out,  to  save  oil),  has 
the  audacity  again,  amid  crocodile  tears,  to  —  drop  hints  ! 
Nay  more,  he,  wretched  man  in  all  senses,  abridges  the 
Lamotte  table ;  will  besiege  virtue  both  in  the  positive 
and  negative  way.     The  Lamottes,  wintry  as  the  world 

20  looks,  cannot  be  gone  too  soon. 

As  to  Lamotte  the  husband,  he,  for  shelter  against 
much,  decisively  dives  down  to  the  "  subterranean  shades 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  79 

of  Rascaldom ;  "  gambles,  swindles;  can  hope  to  live, 
miscellaneously,  if  not  by  the  Grace  of  God,  yet  by  the 
Oversight  of  the  Devil,  —  for  a  time.  Lamotte  the  wife 
also  makes  her  packages  :  and  waving  the  unseductive 
Count  Boulainvillier  Save-all  a  disdainful  farewell,  re-  c 
moves  to  the  Belle  Image  in  Versailles ;  there  within 
wind  of  Court,  in  attic  apartments,  on  poor  water-gruel 
board,  resolves  to  await  what  can  betide.  So  much,  in 
few  months  of  this  fateful  year,  1783,  has  come  and  gone. 

Poor  Jeanne  de  Saint-Remi  de  Lamotte  Valois,  Ex-  lo 
Mantuamaker,  Scion-of-Royalty !  What  eye,  looking 
into  those  bare  attic  apartments  and  water-gruel  platters 
of  the  Belle  Image,  but  must,  in  spite  of  itself,  grow  dim 
with  almost  a  kind  of  tear  for  thee !  There  thou  art, 
with  thy  quick  lively  glances,  face  of  a  certain  piquancy,  15 
thy  gossamer  untamable  character,  snappish  sallies,  glib 
all-managing  tongue ;  thy  whole  incarnated,  garmented, 
and  so  sharply  appetent  "  spark  of  Life ;  "  cast  down 
alive  into  this  World,  without  vote  of  thine  (for  the 
Elective  Franchises  have  not  yet  got  that  length)  ;  and  20 
Avouldst  so  fain  live  there.  Paying  scot-and-lot ;  provid- 
ing, or  fresh-scouring  silk  court-dresses  ;  "  always  keep- 
ing a  gig ! "  Thou  must  hawk  and  shark  to  and  fro, 
from  anteroom  to  anteroom  ;  become  a  kind  of  terror  to 
all  men  in  place,  and  women  that  influence  such  ;  dance  25 
not  light  Ionic  measures,  but  attendance  merely  ;  have 
weepings,  thanksgiving  effusions,  aulic,  almost  forensic, 
eloquence :  perhaps  eke  out  thy  thin  livelihood  by  some 
coquetries,  in  the  small  way  ;  —  and  so,  most  poverty- 
stricken,  cold-blighted,  yet  with  young  keen  blood  strug- 


80  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

gling  against  it,  spin  forward  thy  unequal  feeble  thread, 
which  the  Atropos-scissors  will  soon  clip  ! 

Surely  now,  if  ever,  were  that  vague  looming   from 
Saverne  welcome,  as  a  weather-sign.     How  doubly  wel- 

5  come  is  his  plush  Eminence's  personal  arrival ;  —  for 
with  the  earliest  spring  he  has  come  in  person,  as  he 
periodically  does ;  vaporific,  driven  by  his  fixed-idea. 

Genius,  of  the  mechanical  practical  kind,  what  is  it 
but  a  bringing  together  of  two  Forces  that  fit  each  other, 

10  that  will  give  birth  to  a  third  ?  Ever,  from  Tubalcain's 
time,  Iron  lay  ready  hammered;  Water,  also,  Avas  boil- 
ing and  bursting ;  nevertheless,  for  want  of  a  genius, 
there  was  as  yet  no  Steam-engine.  In  his  Eminence 
Prince  Louis,  in  that  huge,  restless,  incoherent  Being  of 

15  his,  depend  on  it,  brave  Countess,  there  are  Forces  deep, 
manifold ;  nay,  a  fixed-idea  concentrates  the  whole  huge 
Incoherence  as  it  were  into  one  Force  :  cannot  the  eye 
of  genius  discover  its  fellow  ? 

Communing  much  with  the  Court  valetaUle,  our  brave 

ao  Countess  has  more  than  once  heard  talk  of  Boehmer,  of 
his  Necklace,  and  threatened  death  by  water  ;  in  the 
course  of  gossiping  and  tattling,  this  topic  from  time  to 
time  emerges  ;  is  commented  upon  Avith  empty  laughter, 
—  as  if  there  lay  no  farther  meaning  in  it.     To  the  com- 

25  mon  eye  there  is  indeed  none  :  but  to  the  eye  of  genius  ? 
In  some  moment  of  inspiration,  the  question  rises  on 
our  brave  Lamotte:  Were  not  thh,  of  all  extant  Forces, 
the  cognate  one  that  would  unite  with  Eminence  Ro- 
han's ?  Great  moment,  light-beaming,  fire-flashing  ;  like 
birth  of  Minerva ;  like  all  moments  of  Creation !     Fancy 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  81 

liow  pulse  and  breath  flutter,  almost  stop,  in  the  great- 
ness :  the  great  not  Divine  Idea,  the  great  Diabolic  Idea, 
is  too  big  for  her.  —  Thought  (how  often  must  we  repeat 
it  ?)  rules  the  world.  Fire  and,  in  a  less  degree.  Frost ; 
Earth  and  Sea  (for  what-  is  your  swiftest  ship,  or  steam-  5 
ship,  but  a  Thought  —  embodied  in  wood?);  Reformed 
Parliaments,  rise  and  ruin  of  Nations,  —  sale  of  Dia- 
monds :  all  things  obey  Thought.  Countess  de  Saint- 
Remi  de  Lamotte,  by  power  of  Thought,  is  now  a  made 
woman.  With  force  of  genius  she  represses,  crushes  10 
deep  down,  her  Undivine  Idea ;  bends  all  her  faculty  to 
realize  it.  Prepare  thyself.  Reader,  for  a  series  of  the 
most  surprising  Dramatic  Representations  ever  exhibited 
on  any  stage. 

We  hear  tell  of  Dramatists,  and  scenic  illusion  how  is 
"  natural,"   how   illusive  it  was :   if   the   spectator,  for 
some  half-moment,   can   half-deceive   himself  into  the 
belief  that  it  was  real,  he  departs  doubly  content.    With 
all  which,  and  much  more  of  the  like,  I  have  no  quarrel. 
But  what  must  be  thought  of  the  Female  Dramatist  who,  20 
for  eighteen  long  months,  can  exhibit  the  beautifullest 
Fata-morgana  to  a  plush  Cardinal,  wide  awake,  with  fifty 
years  on  his  head  ;  and  so  lap  him  in  her  scenic  illusion 
that  he  never  doubts  but  it  is  all  firm  earth,  and  the 
pasteboard  Coulisse-trees  are  producing  Hesperides  ap-  25 
pies  ?     Could  Madame  de  Lamotte,  then,  have  written  a 
Hamlet  ?     1  conjecture,  not.     More  goes  to  the  writing 
of  a  Hamlet  than  completest  "  imitation  "  of  all  charac- 
ters and  things  in  this  Earth ;  there  goes,  before  and 


82  THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

beyond  all,  the  rarest  understanding  of  these,  insight 
into  their  hidden  essences  and  harmonies.  Erasmus's 
Ape,  as  is  known  in  Literary  History,  sat  by  while  its 
Master  was  shaving,  and  "  imitated  "  every  point  of  the 

6  process;  but  its  own  foolish  beard  grew  never  the 
smoother. 

As  in  looking  at  a  finished  Drama,  it  were  nowise 
meet  that  the  spectator  first  of  all  got  behind  the  scenes, 
and  saw  the  burnt-corks,  brayed-resin,  thunder-barrels, 

10  and  withered  hunger-bitten  men  and  women,  of  which 
such  heroic  work  was  made  :  so  here  with  the  reader. 
A  peep  into  the  side-scenes  shall  be  granted  him,  from 
time  to  time.  But,  on  the  whole,  repress,  0  reader,  that 
too  insatiable  scientific  curiosity  of  thine ;  let  thy  ces- 

15  thetic  feeling  first  have  play  ;  and  witness  what  a  Pros- 
pero's-grotto  poor  Eminence  Rohan  is  led  into,  to  be 
pleased  he  knows  not  why. 

Survey  first  what  we  might  call  the  stage-lights,  orches- 
tra, general  structure  of  the  theatre,  mood  and  condition 

20  of  the  audience.  The  theatre  is  the  World,  with  its  rest- 
less business  and  madness ;  near  at  hand  rise  the  royal 
Domes  of  Versailles,  mystery  around  them,  and  as 
background  the  memory  of  a  thousand  years.  By  the 
side  of  the  Eiver  Seine  walks,  haggard,  wasted,  a  Joail- 

25  lier-Bijoutier  de  la  Reine,  with  Necklace  in  his  pocket. 
The  audience  is  a  drunk  Christopher  Sly  in  the  fittest 
humor.  A  fixed-idea,  driving  him  headlong  over  steep 
places,  like  that  of  the  Gadarenes'  Swine,  has  produced 
a  deceptibility,  as  of  desperation,  that  will  clutch  at 
straws.      Understand  one   other  word ;    Cagliostro   is 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  88 

prophesying  to  him  !  The  Quack  of  Quacks  has  now  for 
years  had  him  in  leading.  Transmitting  "  predictions  in 
cipher ; "  questioning,  before  Hieroglyphic  Screens, 
Columbs  in  a  state  of  innocence,  for  elixirs  of  life,  and 
philosopher's  stone ;  unveiling,  in  fuliginous  clear-  5 
obscure,  an  imaginary  majesty  of  Nature  ;  he  isolates 
him  more  and  more  from  all  unpossessed  men.  Was  it 
not  enough  that  poor  Eohan  had  become  a  dissolute, 
somnolent-violent,  ever-vapory  Mud-volcano ;  but  black 
Egyptian  magic  must  be  laid  on  him  !  lo 

If  perhaps,  too,  our  Countess  de  Lamotte,  with  her 
blandishments  —  ?  For  though  not  beautiful,  she  "  has 
a  certain  piquancy  "  et  cetera  !  —  Enough,  his  poor  Emi- 
nence sits  in  the  fittest  place,  in  the  fittest  mood :  a 
newly -awakened  Christopher  Sly  ;  and  with  his  "  small  f) 
ale,"  too,  beside  him.  Touch,  only,  the  lights  with  fire- 
tipt  rod ;  and  let  the  orchestra,  soft-warbling,  strike  up 
their  fara-lara  fiddle-diddle-dee ! 


84  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

MARIE-ANTOINETTE. 

Such  a  soft-warbling  fara-lara  was  it  to  his  Eminence, 
when,  in  early  January  of  the  year  1784,  our  Countess 
first,  mysteriously,  and  under  seal  of  sworn  secrecy, 
hinted  to  him  that,  with  her  winning  tongue  and  great 

5   talent  as  Anecdotic  Historian,  she  had  worked  a  passage 

.  to  the  ear  of  Queen's  Majesty  itself.  Gods !  dost  thoit 
bring  with  thee  airs  from  Heaven  ?  Is  thy  face  yet 
radiant  with  some  reflex  of  that  Brightness  beyond 
bright  ?  —  Men  with   fixed-idea   are   not  as  other  men. 

10  To  listen  to  a  plain  varnished  tale,  such  as  your  Drama- 
tist can  fashion ;  to  ponder  the  words ;  to  snuff  them  up, 
as  Ephraim  did  the  east-wind,  and  grow  flatulent  and 
drunk  with  them :  what  else  could  poor  Eminence  do  ? 
His  poor  somnolent,  so  swift-rocked  soul  feels  a  new  ele- 

16  meut  infused  into  it ;  turbid  resinous  light,  wide-corus- 
cating, glares  over  the  waste  of  his  imagination.  Is  he 
interested  in  the  mysterious  tidings  ?  Hope  has  seized 
them ;  there  is  in  the  world  nothing  else  that  interests 
him. 

20  The  secret  friendship  of  Queens  is  not  a  thing  to  be 
let  sleep  :  ever  new  Palace  Interviews  occur ;  —  yet  in 
deepest  privacy ;  for  how  should  her  Majesty  awaken  so 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  85 

many  tongues  of  Principalities  and  Nobilities,  male  and 
female,  that  spitefully  watch  her  ?  Above  all,  however, 
"  on  the  2d  of  February,"  that  day  of  "  the  Procession  of 
blue  Ribands,"  much  was  spoken  of :  somewhat,  too,  of 
Monseigneur  de  Rohan  !  —  Poor  Monseigneur,  hadst  thou  5 
three  long  ears,  thou'dst  hear  her. 

But  will  she  not,  perhaps,  in  some  future  priceless 
Interview,  speak  a  good  word  for  thee  ?  Thyself  shalt 
speak  it,  happy  Eminence ;  at  least,  write  it :  our  tute- 
lary Countess  will  be  the  bearer  !  —  On  the  21st  of  March  10 
goes  off  that  long  exculpatory  imploratory  Letter  :  it  is 
the  first  Letter  that  went  off  from  Cardinal  to  Queen ;  to 
be  followed,  in  time,  by  '^  above  two  hundred  others ; " 
which  are  graciously  answered  by  verbal  Messages,  nay  at 
length  by  Royal  Autographs  on  gilt  paper,  —  the  whole  15 
delivered  by  our  tutelary  Countess.  The  tutelary  Count- 
ess comes  and  goes,  fetching  and  carrying;  with  the 
gravity  of  a  Roman  Augur,  inspects  those  extraordi- 
nary chicken-bowels,  and  draws  prognostics  from  them. 
Things  are  in  fair  train :  the  Dauphiness  took  some  20 
offence  at  Monseigneur,  but  the  Queen  has  nigh  forgot- 
ten it.  No  inexorable  Queen ;  ah  no  !  So  good,  so  free, 
light-hearted ;  only  sore  beset  with  malicious  Polignacs 
and  others  ;  — at  times,  also,  short  of  money. 

Marie  Antoinette,  as  the  reader  well  knows,  has  been  25 
much  blamed  for  want  of  Etiquette.     Even  now,  when 
the   other   accusations  against  her  have  sunk  down  to 
oblivion   and  the  Father  of  Lies,  this  of  wanting  Eti- 
quette survives   her ;  —  in  the  Castle  of  Ham,  at  this 


86  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

hour,  M.  de  Polignac  aud  Company  may  be  wringing 
their  hands,  not  without  an  oblique  glance  at  her  for 
bringing  them  thither.  She  indeed  discarded  Etiquette  ; 
once,  when  her  carriage  broke  down,  she  even  entered  a 

5  hackney-coach.  She  would  walk,  too,  at  Trianon,  in 
mere  straw-hat,  and  perhaps  muslin  gown !  Hence,  the 
Knot  of  Etiquette  being  loosed,  the  Erame  of  Society 
broke  up  ;  and  those  astonishing  "  Horrors  of  the  Erench 
Revolution"  supervened.      On  what    Damocles'    hairs 

10  must  the  judgment-sword  hang  over  this  distracted 
Earth  ?  Thus,  however,  it  was  that  Tenterden  Steeple 
brought  an  influx  of  the  Atlantic  on  us,  and  so  Godwin 
Sands.  Thus,  too,  might  it  be  that  because  Eather  Xoah 
took  the  liberty  of,  say,  rinsing  out   his  wine-vat,  his 

15  Ark  was  floated  off,  and  a  world  drowned.  —  Beautiful 
Highborn  that  wert  so  foully  hurled  low !  Eor,  if  thy 
Being  came  to  thee  out  of  old  Hapsburg  Dynasties,  came 
it  not  also  (like  my  own)  out  of  Heaven  ?  Sunt  lachry- 
mce  rerum,  et  vientem  mortalia  tangunt.     Oh,  is  there  a 

20  man's  heart  that  thinks,  without  pity,  of  those  long 
months  and  years  of  slow- wasting  ignominy  ;  —  of  thy 
birth,  soft-cradled  in  Imperial  Schonbrunn,  the  winds  of 
heaven  not  to  visit  thy  face  too  roughly,  thy  foot  to 
light   on   softness,  thy  eye   on   splendor;   and  then  of 

25  thy  Death  or  hundred  Deaths,  to  which  the  Guillotine 
and  Eouquier  Tinville's  judgment-bar  was  but  the  merci- 
ful end  ?  Look  there,  0  man  born  of  woman !  The 
bloom  of  that  fair  face  is  wasted,  the  hair  is  gray  with 
care ;  the  brightness  of  those  eyes  is  quenched,  their  lids 
hang  drooping,  the  face  is  stony  pale  as  of  one  living  in 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  87 

death.  Mean  weeds,  which  her  own  hand  has  mended, 
attire  the  Queen  of  the  World.  The  death-hurdle,  where 
thou  sittest  pale,  motionless,  which  only  curses  environ, 
has  to  stop :  a  people,  drunk  with  vengeance,  will  drink 
it  again  in  full  draught,  looking  at  thee  there.  Far  as  5 
the  eye  reaches,  a  multitudinous  sea  of  maniac  heads ; 
the  air  deaf  with  their  triumph-yell !  The  Living-dead 
must  shudder  with  yet  one  other  pang;  her  startled 
blood  yet  again  suffuses  with  the  hue  of  agony  that  pale 
face,  which  she  hides  with  her  hands.  There  is  then  no  10 
heart  to  say,  God  pity  thee  ?  Oh  think  not  of  these ; 
think  of  Him  whom  thou  worshippest,  the  Crucified,  — 
who  also  treading  the  wine-press  alone,  fronted  sorrow 
still  deeper ;  and  triumphed  over  it,  and  made  it  holy ; 
and  built  of  it  a  "  Sanctuary  of  Sorrow,"  for  thee  and  all  15 
the  wretched  !  Thy  path  of  thorns  is  nigh  ended.  One 
long  last  look  at  the  Tuileries,  where  thy  step  was  once 
so  light,  —  where  thy  children  shall  not  dwell.  The 
head  is  on  the  block ;  the  axe  rushes  —  Dumb  lies  the 
World ;  that  wild-yelling  World,  and  all  its  madness,  is  20 
behind  thee. 

Beautiful  Highborn  that  wert  so  foully  hurled  low  ! 
Rest  yet  in  thy  innocent  gracefully  heedless  seclusion, 
unintruded  on  by  me,  while  rude  hands  have  not  yet 
desecrated  it.  Be  the  curtains,  that  shroud-in  (if  for  25 
the  last  time  on  this  Earth)  a  Royal  Life,  still  sacred  to 
me.  Thy  fault,  in  the  French  Revolution,  was  that  thou 
wert  the  Symbol  of  the  Sin  and  Misery  of  a  thousand 
years;  that  with  Saint-Bartholomews,  and  Jacqueries, 
with  Gabelles,   and    Dragonades,   and   Parcs-aux-cerfs, 


88  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

the  heart  of  maukind  Avas  filled  full,  — and  foamed  over, 
into  all-involving  madness.  To  no  Xapoleon,  to  no 
Cromwell  wert  thou  wedded :  such  sit  not  in  the  highest 
rank,  of  themselves ;  are  raised  on  high  by  the  shaking 
5  and  confounding  of  all  the  ranks  !  As  poor  peasants,  how 
happy,  worthy  had  ye  two  been !  But  by  evil  destiny 
ye  were  made  a  King  and  Queen  of ;  and  so  both  once 
more  —  are  become  an  astonishment  and  a  by-word  to 
all  times. 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  89 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    TWO    FIXED-IDEAS    WFLL    UNITE. 

'•'  Countess  de  Lamotte,  then,  had  penetrated  into  the 
confidence  of  the  Queen  ?  Those  gilt-paper  Autographs 
were  actually  written  by  the  Queen  ?  "  Reader,  forget 
not  to  repress  that  too  insatiable  scientific  curiosity  of 
thine !  What  I  know  is,  that  a  certain  Villette-de-  5 
R^taux,  with  military  whiskers,  denizen  of  Rascaldom, 
comrade  there  of  Monsieur  le  Comte,  is  skilful  in  imitat- 
ing hands.  Certain  it  is  also,  that  Madame  la  Comtesse 
has  penetrated  to  the  Trianon  —  Doorkeeper's.  Nay,  as 
Campan  herself  must  a'dmit,  she  has  met,  "  at  a  Man-  lo 
midwife's  in  Versailles,"  with  worthy  Queen's-valet  Les- 
claux,  —  or  Desclos,  for  there  is  no  uniformity  in  it. 
With  these,  or  the  like  of  these,  she  in  the  back-parlor 
of  the  Palace  itself  (if  late  enough),  may  pick  a  merry- 
thought, sip  the  foam  from  a  glass  of  Champagne.  No  i" 
farther  seek  her  honors  to  disclose,  for  the  present ;  or 
anatomically  dissect,  as  we  said,  those  extraordinary 
chicken-bowels,  from  which  she,  and  she  alone,  can  read 
Decrees  of  Fate,  and  also  realize  them. 

Sceptic,  seest  thou  his  Eminence  waiting  there,  in  the  20 
moonlight ;  hovering  to  and  fro  on  the  back  terrace,  till 
she  come  out  —  from  the  ineffable  Interview  ?     He  is 


90  THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

close  muffled ;  walks  restlessly  observant ;  shy  also,  and 
courting  the  shade.  She  comes  :  up  closer  with  thy 
capote,  0  Eminence,  down  with  thy  broadbrim  ;  for  she 
has  an  escort !  'Tis  but  the  good  Monsieur  Queen's- 
5  valet  Lesclaux  :  and  now  he  is  sent  back  again,  as  no 
longer  needful.  Mark  him,  Monseigneur,  nevertheless  ; 
thou  wilt  see  him  yet  another  time.  Monseigneur  marks 
little  :  his  heart  is  in  the  ineffable  Interview,  in  the  gilt- 
paper  Autograph  alone.  —  Queen's-valet  Lesclaux  ?     Me- 

10  thinks  he  has  much  the  stature  of  Villette,  denizen  of 
Rascaldom !     Impossible ! 

How  our  Countess  managed  with  Cagiiostro  ?  Cagli- 
ostro,  gone  from  Strasburg,  is  as  yet  far  distant,  winging 
his   way   through    dim    Space ;    will   not    be   here    for 

is  months :  only  his  "  predictions  in  cipher "  are  here. 
Here  or  there,  however,  Cagiiostro,  to  our  Countess,  can 
be  useful.  At  a  glance,  the  eye  of  genius  has  descried 
him  to  be  a  bottomless  slough  of' falsity,  vanity,  gulosity 
and  thick-eyed  stupidity:   of  foulest    material,  but  of 

20  fattest ;  —  fit  compost  for  the  Plant  she  is  rearing.  Him 
who  has  deceived  all  Europe  she  can  undertake  to 
deceive.  His  Columbs,  demonic  Masonries,  Egyptian 
Elixirs,  what  is  all  this  to  the  light-giggling  exclusively 
practical  Lamotte  ?     It  runs  off  from  her,  as  all  specula- 

25  tion,  good,  bad  and  indifferent,  has  always  done,  "like 
water  from  one  in  wax-cloth  dress."  With  the  lips 
meanwhile  she  can  honor  it ;  Oil  of  Flattery,  the  best 
patent  antifriction  known,  subdues  all  irregularities 
whatsoever. 

On  Cagiiostro,  again,  on  his   side,  a  certain  uneasy 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  91 

feeling  might,  for  moments,  intrude  itself;  the  raven 
loves  not  ravens.  But  what  can  he  do  ?  Nay,  she  is 
partly  playing  his  game  :  can  he  not  spill  her  full  cup 
yet,  at  the  right  season,  and  pack  her  out  of  doors  ? 
Oftenest  in  their  joyous  orgies,  this  light  fascinating  5 
Countess,  —  who  perhaps  has  a  design  on  his  heart, 
seems  to  him  but  one  other  of  those  light  Papiliones, 
who  have  fluttered  round  him  in  all  climates  ;  whom 
with  grim  muzzle  he  has  snapt  by  the  thousand. 

Thus,  what  with  light  fascinating  Countess,  what  with  10 
Quack  of  Quacks,  poor  Eminence  de  Rohan  lies  safe ; 
his  mud-volcano  placidly  simmering  in  thick  Egyptian 
haze  :  withdrawn  from  all  the  world.  Moving  figures, 
as  of  men,  he  sees ;  takes  not  the  trouble  to  look  at. 
Court-cousins  rally  him  ;  are  answered  in  silence  ;  or,  if  15 
it  go  too  far,  in  mud-explosions  terrifico-absurd.  Court- 
cousins  and  all  mankind  are  unreal  shadows  merely ; 
Queen's  favor  the  only  substance. 

Nevertheless,  the  World,  on  its  side  too,  has  an  exist- 
ence ;  lies  not  idle  in  these  days.  It  has  got  its  20 
Versailles  Treaty  signed,  long  months  ago ;  and  the 
plenipotentiaries  all  home  again,  for  votes  of  thanks. 
Paris,  London  and  other  great  Cities  and  small,  are 
working,  intriguing ;  dying,  being  born.  There,  in  the 
Kue  Taranne,  for  instance,  the  once  noisy  Denis  Diderot  26 
has  fallen  silent  enough.  Here  also,  in  Bolt  Court,  old 
Samuel  Johnson,  like  an  over-wearied  Giant,  must  lie 
down,  and  slumber  without  dream  ;  —  the  rattling  of 
carriages  and  wains,  and  all  the  world's  din  and  business 


92  THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

rolling  by,  as  ever,  from  of  old.  —  Sieur  Boehmer,  how- 
ever, has  not  yet  drowned  himself  in  the  Seine ;  only 
walks  haggard,  wasted,  purposing  to  do  it. 

News  (by  the  merest   accident  in  the  world)    reach 

5  Sieur  Boehmer,  of  Madame's  new  favor  with  her 
Majesty  !  Men  will  do  much  before  they  drown.  Sieur 
Boehmer's  j^ecklace  is  on  Madame's  table,  his  guttural- 
nasal  rhetoric  in  her  ear :  he  will  abate  many  a  pound 
and  penny  of  the  first  just  price ;  he  will  give  cheerfully 

10  a  thousand  Louis-d'or,  as  cadeau,  to  the  generous  Scion- 
of-Royalty  that  shall  persuade  her  Majesty.  The  man's 
importunities  grow  quite  annoying  to  our  Countess; 
who,  in  her  glib  way,  satirically  prattles  how  she  has 
been  bored, — to  Monseigneur,  among  others. 

15  Dozing  on  down  cushions,  far  inwards,  with  soft 
ministering  Hebes,  and  luxurious  appliances ;  with 
ranked  Heyducs,  and  a  Valetaille  innumerable,  that 
shut  out  the  prose-world  and  its  discord :  thus  lies  Mon- 
seigneur, in  enchanted  dream.     Can  he,  even  in  sleep, 

20  forget  his  tutelary  Countess,  and  her  service  ?  By  the 
delicatest  presents  he  alleviates  her  distresses,  most 
undeserved.  Nay,  once  or  twice,  gilt  Autographs,  from 
a  Queen,  —  with  whom  he  is  evidently  rising  to  unknown 
heights  in  favor,  —  have  done  Monseigneur   the  honor 

25  to  make  him  her  Majesty's  Grand  Almoner,  when 
the  case  was  pressing.  Monseigneur,  we  say,  has  had 
the  honor  to  disburse  charitable  cash,  on  her  Majesty's 
behalf,  to  this  or  the  other  distressed  deserving  object: 
say   only   to   the   length   of   a   few   thousand    pounds. 


THR  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  93 

advanced  from  his  own  funds;  —  her  Majesty  being  at 
the  moment  so  poor,  and  charity  a  thing  that  will  not 
wait.  Always  Madame,  good,  foolish,  gadding  creature, 
takes  charge  of  delivering  the  money.  —  Madame  can 
descend  from  her  attics,  in  the  Belle  Image ;  and  feel  5 
the  smiles  of  Nature  and  Fortune,  a  little  ;  so  bounteous 
has  the  Queen's  Majesty  been. 

To  Monseigneur  the   power  of   money  over   highest 
female   hearts   had   never   been    incredible.      Presents 
have,   many   times,    worked    wonders.       But    then,    0  10 
Heavens,  what  present  ?     Scarcely  were  the  Cloud-Com- 
peller  himself,  all  coined  into  new  Louis-d'or,  worthy 
to   alight  in  such  a  lap.     Loans,  charitable   disburse- 
ments, however,  as  we  see,  are  permissible ;  these,  by 
defect  of  payment,  may  become  presents.     In  the  vortex  15 
of    his   Eminence's    day-dreams,    lumbering   multiform 
slowly  round,    this   of   importunate   Boehmer   and   his 
Kecklace,  from  time  to  time,  turns  up.     Is  the  Queen's 
Majesty   at   heart   desirous    of    it;   but   again,    at   the 
moment,   too   poor  ?      Our   tutelary    Countess    answers  20 
vaguely,  mysteriously  ;  —  confesses,  at  last,  under  oath  of 
secrecy,  her  own  private  suspicion  that  the  Queen  wants 
this  same  Necklace,  of  all  things ;  but  dare  not,  for  a 
stingy  husband,  buy  it.     She,  the  Countess  de  Lamotte, 
will  look  farther  into  the  matter ;  and,  if  aught  service-  25 
able  to  his  Eminence  can  be  suggested,  in  a  good  way 
suggest  it,  in  the  proper  quarter. 

Walk  warily.  Countess  de  Lamotte ;  for  now,  with 
thickening  breath,  thou  approachest  the  moment  of 
moments !    Principalities  and  Powers,  Parlement,  Grand 


94  THOMAS  CARLYLE." 

Chambre  and  Toumelle,  with  all  their  whips  and  gibbet- 
wheels  ;  the  very  Crack  of  Doom  hangs  over  thee,  if 
thou  trip.  Forward,  with  nerve  of  iron,  on  shoes  of 
felt;  like  a  Treasure-digger,  in  silence,  looking  neither 
5  to  the  right  nor  left,  —  where  yawn  abysses  deep  as  the 
Pool,  and  all  Pandemonium  hovers,  eager  to  rend  thee 
into  rags ! 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  95 


CHAPTER   IX. 
PARK  OF  vp:rsailles. 

Ob  will  the  reader  incline  rather,  taking  the  other  and 
sunny  side  of  the  matter,  to  enter  that  Lamottic  Circeau 
theatrical  establishment  of  Monseigneur  de  Rohan ;  and 
see  there  how,  under  the  best  of  Dramaturgists,  Melo- 
drama with  sweeping  pall  flits  past  him ;  while  the  5 
enchanted  Diamond  fruit  is  gradually  ripening,  to  fall 
by  a  shake  ? 

The  28th  of  July,  of  this  same  momentous  1784,  has 
come ;  and  with  it  the  most  rapturous  tumult  into  the 
heart   of   Monseigneur.      Ineffable    expectancy  stirs-up  10 
his  whole  soul,  with  the  much  that  lies  therein,  from 
its  lowest  foundations :  borne  on  wild  seas  to  Armida 
Islands,   yet   as   is   fit,   through    Horror    dim-hovering 
round,  he  tumultuously  rocks.     To  the  Chateau,  to  the 
Park  !     This  night  the  Queen  will  meet  thee,  the  Queen  15 
herself:  so  far   has   our  tutelary  Countess  brought   it. 
What  can  ministerial  impediments,  Polignac  intrigues, 
avail   against   the  favor,  nay  —  Heaven   and  Earth !  — 
perhaps  the  tenderness  of  a  Queen  ?     She  vanishes  from 
amid  their  meshwork  of  Etiquette  and  Cabal ;  descends  20 
from  her  celestial  Zodiac,  to  thee  a  shepherd  of  Latmos. 
Alas,  a  white-bearded  pursy  shepherd,  fat  and  scant  of 


96  THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

breath !  Who  can  account  for  the  taste  of  females  ? 
But  thou,  burnish-up  thy  whole  faculties  of  gallantry, 
thy  fifty -years  experience  of  the  sex ;  this  night,  or 
never !  —  In  such  unutterable  meditations  does  Monseig- 

5  neur  restlessly  spend  the  day ;  and  long  for  darkness, 
yet  dread  it. 

Darkness  has  at  length  come.  The  perpendicular  rows 
of  Heyducs,  in  that  Palais  or  Hotel  de  Strasbourg,  are  all 
cast  horizontal,  prostrate  in  sleep ;    the  very  Concierge 

10  resupine,  with  open  mouth,  audibly  drinks-in  nepenthe ; 
when  Monseigneur,  "in  blue  great-coat,  with  slouched 
hat,  issues  softly,  with  his  henchman  Planta  of  the 
Grisons,  to  the  Park  of  Versailles.  Planta  must  loiter 
invisible  in  the  distance ;  Slouched-liat  will  wait  here, 

15  among  the  leafy  thickets ;  till  our  tutelary  Countess, 
"in  black  domino,"  announce  the  moment,  which  surely 
must  be  near. 

The  night  is  of  the  darkest  for  the  season ;  no  Moon ; 
warm,  slumbering  July,  in  motionless  clouds,  drops  fat- 

20  iiess  over  the  Eaj-th.  The  very  stars  from  the  Zenith 
see  not  Monseigneur  ;  see  only  his  and  the  world's  cloud- 
covering,  fringed  with  twilight  in  the  far  North.  Mid- 
night, telling  itself  forth  from  these  shadowy  Palace 
Domes  ?     All  the   steeples  of   Versailles,  the   villages 

25  around,  with  metal  tongue,  and  huge  Paris  itself  dull- 
droning,  answer  drowsily.  Yes  !  Sleep  rules  this  Hemi- 
sphere of  the  World.  From  Arctic  to  Antarctic,  the  Life 
of  our  Earth  lies  all,  in  long  swaths,  or  rows  (like  those 
rows  of  Heyducs  and  snoring  Concierge),  successively 
mown  down,  from  vertical  to  horizontal,  by  Sleep ! 
liather  curious  to  consider. 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  97 

The  flowers  are  all  asleep  in  Little  Trianon,  the 
roses  folded-in  for  the  night ;  but  the  Rose  of  Roses 
still  wakes.  0  wondrous  Earth  I  0  doubly  wondrous 
Park  of  Versailles,  with  Little  and  Great  Trianon,  — 
and  a  scarce-breathing  Monseigneur!  Ye  Hydraulics  of  5 
Lenotre,  that  also  slumber,  with  stop-cocks,  in  your  deep 
leaden  chambers,  babble  not  of  Mm.  when  ye  arise.  Ye 
odorous  balui-shrubs,  huge  spectral  Cedars,  thou  sacred 
Boscage  of  Hornbeam,  ye  dim  Pavilions  of  the  Peerless, 
whisper  not !  Moon,  lie  silent,  hidden  in  thy  vacant  10 
cave ;  no  star  look  down :  let  neither  Heaven  nor  Hell 
peep  through  the  blanket  of  the  Xiglit,  to  cry,  Hold, 
Hold  !  —The  Black  Domino  ?  Ha !  Yes !  —  With  stouter 
step  than  might  have  been  expected,  Monseigneur  is 
under  way  ;  the  Black  Domino  had  only  to  whisper,  15 
low  and  eager:  "In  the  Hornbeam  Arbor  !"  And  now, 
Cardinal,  0  now!  —  Yes,  there  hovers  the  white  Celes- 
tial; "in  white  robe  of  linon  mouchete,''^  finer  than 
moonshine  ;  a  Juno  by  her  bearing :  there,  in  that  bos- 
ket !  Monseigneur,  down  on  thy  knees  ;  never  can  red  20 
breeches  be  better  wasted.  Oh,  he  would  kiss  the  royal 
shoe-tie,  or  its  shadow  if  there  were  one  :  not  words  ; 
only  broken  gaspings,  murmuring  prostrations,  elo- 
quently speak  his  meaning.  But,  ah,  behold!  Our 
tutelary  Black  Domino,  in  haste,  with  vehement  whis-  25 
per  :  "  On  vient."  The  white  Juno  drops  a  fairest  Rose, 
with  these  ever-memorable  words,  "  Vous  savez  ce  que 
cela  veut  dire,  You  know  what  that  means ; "  vanishes 
in  the  thickets,  the  Black  Domino  hurrying  her  with 
eager  whisper  of  "  Vite,  vite,  Away,  away  !  "  for  the  sound 


98  THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

of  footsteps  (doubtless  from  Madame,  and  Madame 
d'Artois,  unwelcome  sisters  that  they  are  !)  is  approach- 
ing fast.  Monseigneur  picks  up  his  Rose ;  runs  as  for 
the  King's  plate,  almost  overturns  poor  Planta,  whose 

5  laugh  assures  him  that  all  is  safe. 

0  Ixion  de  Rohan,  happiest  mortal  of  this  world, 
since  the  first  Ixion,  of  deathless  memory,  —  who  never- 
theless, in  that  cloud-embrace,  begat  strange  Centaurs  ! 
Thou  art  Prime  Minister  of  France  without  peradven- 

10  ture  :  is  not  this  the  Rose  of  Royalty,  worthy  to  become 
ottar  of  roses,  and  yield  perfume  forever  ?  How  thou, 
of  all  people,  wilt  contrive  to  govern  France,  in  these 
very  peculiar  times  —  But  that  is  little  to  the  matter. 
There,  doubtless,  is  thy  Rose  (which  methinks,  it  were 

15  well  to  have  a  Box  or  Casket  made  for) :  nay,  was  there 
not  in  the  dulcet  of  thy  Juno's  •'  Voiis  savez  "  a  kind  of 
trepidation,  a  quaver,  —  as  of  still  deeper  meanings  !  • 

Reader,  there  is  hitherto  no  item  of  this  miracle  that 
is   not   historically    proved   and    true.  —  In    distracted 

20  black-magical  phantasmagory,  adumbrations  of  yet 
higher  and  highest  Dalliances  hover  stupendous  in  the 
background :  whereof  your  Georgels,  and  Campans,  and 
other  official  characters  can  take  no  notice  !  There,  in 
distracted  black-magical  phantasmagory,  let  these  hover. 

25  The  truth  of  them  for  us  is  that  they  do  so  hover.  The 
truth  of  them  in  itself  is  known  only  to  three  per- 
sons :  Dame  self-styled  Countess  de  Lamotte  ;  the  Devil ; 
and  Philippe  Egalite,  —  who  furnished  money  and  facts 
for  the  Lamotte  Memoirs,  and,  before  guillotine ment, 
begat  the  present  King  of  the  French. 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  99 

Enough  that  Ixion  de  Rohan,  lapsed  almost  .nto  deli- 
quium,  by  such  sober  certainty  of  waking  bliss,  is  the 
happiest  of  all  men  ;  and  his  tutelary  Countess  the  dear- 
est of  all  women,  save  one  only.  On  the  25th  of  August 
(so  strong  still  are  those  villanous  Drawing-room  cabals)  5 
he  goes,  weeping,  but  submissive,  by  order  of  a  gilt 
Autograph,  home  to  Saverne ;  till  farther  dignities  can 
be  matured  for  him.  He  carries  his  Rose,  now  consid- 
erably faded,  in  a  Casket  of  fit  price  ;  may,  if  he  so 
please,  perpetuate  it  as  pot-pourri.  He  names  a  favorite  10 
walk  in  his  Archiepiscopal  pleasure-grounds.  Promenade 
de  la  Hose;  there  let  him  court  digestion,  and  loyally 
somnambulate  till  called  for. 

I  notice  it  as  a  coincidence  in  chronology,  that,  few 
days  after  this  date,  the  Demoiselle  (or  even,  for  the  15 
last  month,  Baroness)  Gay  d'Oliva  began  to  find  Countess 
de  Lamotte  "  not  at  home,"  in  her  fine  Paris  hotel,  in  her 
fine  Charonne  country-house ;  and  went  no  more,  with 
Villette,  and  such  pleasant  dinner-guests,  and  her,  to  see 
Beaumarchais'  Mariage  de  Figaro  running  its  hundred  20 
nights. 


100  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


CHAPTER  X. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES. 


"  The  Queeu  ?  "  Good  reader,  thou  surely  art  not  a 
Partridge  the  Schoolmaster  or  a  Monseigneur  de  Eohan, 
to  mistake  the  stage  for  a  reality !  — "  But  who  this 
Demoiselle    d'Oliva    was  ? "      Reader,    let    us    remark 

5  rather  how  the  labors  of  our  Dramaturgic  Countess  are 
increasing. 

New  actors  I  see  on  the  scene  ;  not  one  of  whom  shall 
guess  what  the  other  is  doing  ;  or,  indeed,  know  rightly 
■vrhat  himself  is  doing.     For  example,  cannot  Messieurs 

10  de  Lamotte  and  Villette,  of  Rascaldom,  like  Nisus  and 
Euryalus,  take  a  midnight  walk  of  contemplation,  with 
"footsteps  of  Madame  and  Madame  d'Artois"  (since  all 
footsteps  are  much  the  same),  without  offence  to  any 
one  ?     A  Queen's  Similitude  can  believe  that  a  Queen's 

15  Self,  for  frolic's  sake,  is  looking  at  her  through  the 
thickets  ;  a  terrestrial  Cardinal  can  kiss  with  devotion  a 
celestial  Queen's  slipper,  or  Queen's  Similitude's  slip- 
per, —  and  no  one  but  a  Black  Domino  the  wiser.  All 
these   shall  follow  each  his  precalculated  course ;   for 

20  their  inward  mechanism  is  known,  and  fit  wires  hook 
themselves  on  this.  To  Two  only  is  a  clear  belief 
vouchsafed :  to  Monseigneur,  a  clear  belief  founded  on 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  101 

stupidity :  to  the  great  creative  Dramaturgist,  sitting  at 
the  heart  of  the  whole  mystery,  a  clear  belief  founded 
on  completest  insight.  Great  creative  Dramaturgist! 
How,  like  Schiller,  "by  union  of  the  Possible  with 
the  Necessarily  existing,  she  brings  out  the  "  —  Eighty  5 
thousand  Pounds !  Don  Aranda,  with  his  triple-sealed 
missives  and  hoodwinked  secretaries,  bragged  justly 
that  he  cut  down  the  Jesuits  in  one  day  :  but  here,  with- 
out ministerial  salary,  or  King's  favor,  or  any  help 
beyond  her  own  black  domino,  labors  a  greater  than  he.  lo 
How  she  advances,  stealthily,  steadfastly,  with  Argus 
eye  and  ever-ready  brain  ;  with  nerve  of  iron,  on  shoes 
of  felt !  0  worthy  to  have  intrigued  for  Jesuitdom,  for 
Pope's  Tiara;  —  to  have  been  Pope  Joan  thyself,  in 
those  old  days ;  and  as  Arachne  of  Arachnes,  sat  in  the  15 
centre  of  that  stupendous  spider-web,  which,  reaching 
from  Goa  to  Acapulco,  and  from  Heaven  to  Hell,  over- 
netted  the  thoughts  and  souls  of  men  !  —  Of  which 
spider-web  stray  tatters,  in  favorable  dewy  mornings, 
even  yet  become  visible.  20 

The  Demoiselle  d'Oliva?  She  is  a  Parisian  Demoi- 
selle of  three-and-twenty,  tall,  blond  and  beautiful ;  from 
unjust  guardians,  and  an  evil  world,  she  has  had  some- 
what to  suffer. 

"In  this  month  of  June  1784,"  says  the  Demoiselle  25 
herself,  in  her  (judicial)  Autobiography,  "  I  occupied  a 
small  apartment  in  the  Rue  du  Jour,  Quartier  St.  Eus- 
tache.  I  was  not  far  from  the  Garden  of  the  Palais- 
Royal  ;  I  had  made  it  my  usual  promenade."  For,  indeed, 
the  real  God's-truth  is,  I  was  a  Parisian   unfortunate- 


102  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

female,  with  moderate  custom ;  and  one  must  go  where 
his  market  lies.  "I  frequently  passed  three  or  four  hours 
of  the  afternoon  there,  with  some  women  of  my  acquaint- 
ance, and  a  little  child  of  four  years  old,  whom  I  was 

5  fond  of,  whom  his  parents  willingly  trusted  with  me.  I 
even  went  thither  alone,  except  for  him,  when  other  com- 
pany failed. 

"  One  afternoon,  in  the  month  of  July  following,  I 
was  at  the  Palais-Royal :  my  whole  company,  at  the  mo- 

10  ment,  was  the  child  I  speak  of.  A  tall  young  man,  walk- 
ing alone,  passes  several  times  before  me.  He  was  a 
man  I  had  never  seen.  He  looks  at  me ;  he  looks  fixedly 
at  me.  I  observe  even  that  always,  as  he  comes  near, 
he  slackens  his  pace,  as  if  to  survey  me  more  at  leisure. 

15  A  chair  stood  vacant ;  two  or  three  feet  from  mine.  He 
seats  himself  there. 

"Till  this  instant,  the  sight  of  the  young  man,  his 
walks,  his  approaches,  his  repeated  gazings,  had  made 
no  impression  on  me.     But  now  when  he  was  sitting  so 

20  close  by,  I  could  not  avoid  noticing  him.  His  eyes 
ceased  not  to  wander  over  all  my  person.  His  air  be- 
comes earnest,  grave.  An  unquiet  curiosity  appears  to 
agitate  him.  He  seems  to  measure  my  figure,  to  seize 
by  turns  all  parts  of  my  physiognomy. — He  finds   me 

25  (but  whispers  not  a  syllable  of  it)  tolerably  like,  both  in 
person  and  profile  ;  for  even  the  Abbe  Georgel  says,  I 
was  a  belle  courfisane. 

"  It  is  time  to  name  this  young  man  :  he  was  the  Sieur 
de  Lamotte,  styling  himself  Comte  de  Lamotte.  Who 
doubts  it  ?    He  praises  *  my  feeble  charms ; '  expresses  a 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  103 

wish  to  'pay  liis  addresses  to  me.'  I,  being  a  lone  spin- 
ster, know  not  what  to  say ;  think  it  best  in  the  mean 
while  to  retire.  Vain  precaution !  I  see  him  all  on  a 
sudden  appear  in  my  apartment !  " 

On  his  "  ninth  visit "  (for  he  was  always  civility  itself),  5 
he  talks  of  introducing  a  great  Court-lady,  by  whose 
means  I  may  even  do  her  ^Majesty  some  little  secret-ser- 
vice,—  the  reward  of  which  will  be  unspeakable.  In 
the  dusk  of  the  evening,  silks  mysteriously  rustle  :  enter 
the  creative  Dramaturgist,  Dame  styled  Countess  de  lO 
Lamotte ;  and  so  —  the  too  intrusive  scientific  reader 
has  now,  for  his  punishment,  got  on  the  wrong-side  of 
that  loveliest  Transparency ;  finds  nothing  but  grease- 
pots,  and  vapor  of  expiring  wicks  ! 

The   Demoiselle  Gay  d'Oliva  may  once  more  sit,  or  15 
stand,  in   the   Palais-Royal,  with  such   custom  as  will 
come.     In  due  time,  she  shall  again,  but  with  breath  of 
Terror,  be   blown   upon  ;  and   blown  out   of  France  to 
Brussels. 


104  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

THE    NECKLACE    IS    SOLD. 

Autumn,  with  its  gray  moaning  winds  and  coating  of 
red  strewn  leaves,  invites  Courtiers  to  enjoy  the  charms 
of  Nature;  and  all  business  of  moment  stands  still. 
Countess  de  Lamotte,  while  everything  is  so  stagnant, 
5  and  even  Boehmer  has  locked  up  his  Necklace  and  his 
hopes  for  the  season,  can  drive,  with  her  Count  and 
Euryalus  Villette,  down  to  native  Bar-sur-Aube ;  and 
there  (in  virtue  of  a  Queen's  bounty)  show  the  envious 
a  Scion-of-royalty  ?-e-grafted  ;  and  make  them  yellower 

10  looking  on  it.  A  well-varnished  chariot,  with  the  Arms 
of  Valois  duly  painted  in  bend-sinister ;  a  house  gallantly 
furnished,  bodies  gallantly  attired,  —  secure  them  the 
favorablest  reception  from  all  manner  of  men.  The  very 
Due  de  Penthievre  (Egalite's  father-in-law)  welcomes  our 

15  Lamotte,  with  that  urbanity  characteristic  of  his  high 
station  and  the  old  school.  Worth,  indeed,  makes  the 
man,  or  woman ;  but  "  leather  "  of  gig-straps,  and  "  pru- 
nella "  of  gig-lining,  first  makes  it  go. 

The  great  creative  Dramaturgist  has  thus  let  down  her 

20  drop-scene ;  and  only,  with  a  Letter  or  two  to  Saverne, 
or  even  a  visit  thither  (for  it  is  but  a  day's  drive  from 
Bar),  keeps  up  a  due  modicum  of  intermediate  instm- 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  105 

mental  music.  She  needs  some  pause,  in  good  sooth,  to 
collect  herself  a  little  ;  for  the  last  act  and  grand  Catas- 
trophe is  at  hand.  Two  fixed-ideas,  Cardinal's  and  Jew- 
eller's, a  negative  and  a  positive,  have  felt  each  other; 
stimulated  now  by  new  liope,  are  rapidly  revolving  round  5 
each  other,  and  approximating ;  like  two  flames,  are 
stretching-out  long  fire-tongues  to  join  and  be  one. 

Boehmer,  on  his  side,  is  ready  with  the  readiest;  as 
indeed  he  has  been  these  four  long  years.  The  Countess, 
it  is  true,  will  have  neither  part  nor  lot  in  that  foolish  10 
Cadeau  of  his,  or  in  the  whole  foolish  IS'ecklace  business  : 
this  she  has,  in  plain  words,  and  even  not  without  as- 
perity, due  to  a  bore  of  such  magnitude,  given  him  to 
know.  From  her,  nevertheless,  by  cunning  inference, 
and  the  merest  accident  in  the  world,  the  sly  Joaillier- 15 
Bijoutier  has  gleaned  thus  much,  that  Monseigneur  de 
Rohan  is  the  man.  —  Enough  !  Enough  !  Madame  shall 
be  no  more  troubled.  Rest  there,  in  hope,  thou  Neck- 
lace of  the  Devil;  but,  0  Monseigneur,  be  thy  return 
speedy  I  -  20 

Alas,  the  man  lives  not  that  would  be  speedier  than 
Monseigneur,  if  he  durst.  But  as  yet  no  gilt  Autograph 
invites  him,  permits  him  ;  the  few  gilt  Autographs  are 
all  negatory,  procrastinating.  Cabals  of  Court;  forever 
cabals  !  Nay  if  it  be  not  for  some  Necklace,  or  other  such  25 
crotchet  or  necessity,  who  knows  but  he  may  neve7'  be 
recalled  (so  fickle  is  womankind) ;  but  forgotten,  and 
left  to  rot  here,  like  his  Rose,  into  pot-pourri?  Our  tute- 
lary Countess,  too,  is  shyer  in  this  matter  than  we  ever 


106  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

saw  her.  Nevertheless,  by  intense  skilful  cross-ques- 
tioning, he  has  extorted  somewhat ;  sees  partly  how  it 
stands.  The  Queen's  Majesty  will  have  her  Necklace  ; 
for  when,  in  such  case,  had  not  woman  her  way  ?     The 

5  Queen's  Majesty  can  even  pay  for  it  —  by  instalments ; 
but  then  the  stingy  husband  !  Once  for  all,  she  will  not 
be  seen  in  the  business.  Now,  therefore,  Were  it,  or 
were  it  not,  permissible  to  mortal  to  transact  it  secretly 
in  her  stead  ?     That  is  the  question.     If  to  mortal,  then 

10  to  Monseigneur.  Our  Countess  has  even  ventured  to 
hint  afar  off  at  Monseigneur  (kind  Countess  !)  in  the 
proper  quarter ;  but  his  discretion  in  regard  to  money- 
matters  is  doubted.  Discretion  ?  And  I  on  the  Prome- 
nade de  la  Rose  ?  —  Explode  not,  0  Eminence  !     Trust 

15  will  spring  of  trial ;  thy  hour  is  coming. 

The  Lamottes  meanwhile  have  left  their  farewell  card 
with  all  the  respectable  classes  of  Bar-sur-Aube ;  our 
Dramaturgist  stands  again  behind  the  scenes  at  Paris. 
How  is  it,  0  Monseigneur,  that  she  is  still  so  shy  with 

20  thee,  in  this  matter  of  the  Necklace ;  that  she  leaves 
the  love-lorn  Latmian  shepherd  to  droop,  here  in  lone 
Saverne,  like  weeping-ash,  in  naked  winter,  on  his 
Promenade  of  the  Rose,  with  vague  commonplace 
responses  that  his  hour  is  coming  ?  —  By  Heaven  and 

25  Earth !  at  last,  in  late  January,  it  is  come.  Behold  it, 
this  new  gilt  Autograph :  "  To  Paris,  on  a  small  business 
of  delicacy,  which  our  Countess  will  explain,"  —  which 
I  already  know !  To  Paris!  Horses;  postilions;  beef- 
eaters !  — And  so  his  resuscitated  Eminence,  all  wrapt  in 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  107 

furs,  in  the  pleasantest  frost  (Abbe  Georgel  says,  un 
beaufroid  de  Janvier),  over  clear-jingliug  highway  rolls 
rapidly,  — borne  on  the  bosom  of  Dreams. 

0  Dame  de  Lamotte,  has  the  enchanted  Diamond  fruit 
ripened,  then  ?  Hast  thon  give7i  it  the  little  shake,  big  5 
with  unutterable  fate?  —  1?  can  the  Dame  justly 
retort :  Who  saw  me  in  it  ?  —  The  reader,  therefore, 
has  still  Three  scenic  Exhibitions  to  look  at,  by  our 
great  Dramaturgist ;  then  the  Fourth  and  last,  —  by 
another  Author.  10 

To  us,  reflecting  how  oftenest  the  true  moving  force 
in  human  things  works  hidden  underground,  it  seems 
small  marvel  that  this  month  of  January  1785,  wherein 
our  Countess  so  little  courts  the  eye  of  the  vulgar 
historian,  should  nevertheless  have  been  the  busiest  of  15 
all  for  her ;  especially  the  latter  half  thereof. 

Wisely  eschewing  matters  of  Business  (which  she 
could  never  jn  her  life  understand),  our  Countess  will 
personally  take  no  charge  of  that  bargain-making ;  leaves 
it  all  to  her  Majesty  and  the  gilt  Autographs.  Assidu-  20 
ous  Boehmer  nevertheless  is  in  frequent  close  confer- 
ence with  Monseigneur  :  the  Paris  Palais-de-Strasbourg, 
shut  to  the  rest  of  men,  sees  the  Joaillier-Bijoutier,  with 
eager  official  aspect,  come  and  go.  The  grand  difficulty 
is  —  must  we  say  it?  —  her  Majesty's  wilful  whim  si- 25 
cality,  unacquaintance  with  Business.  She  positively 
will  not  write  a  gilt  Autograph,  authorizing  his  Eminence 
to  make  the  bargain ;  but  writes  rather,  in  a  pettish 
manner,  that  the  thing  is  of  no  consequence,  and  can  be 


108  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

given  up !  Thus  must  the  poor  Countess  dash  to  and 
fro,  like  a  weaver's  shuttle,  between  Paris  and  Versailles ; 
wear  her  horses  and  nerves  to  pieces  ;  nay,  sometimes 
in  the  hottest  haste,  wait  many  hours  within  call  of  the 
5  Palace,  considering  what  can  be  done  (with  none  but 
Villette  to  bear  her  company),  —  till  the  Queen's  whim 
pass. 

At  length,  after  furious-driving  and  conferences  enough, 
on  the  29th  of  January,  a  middle  course  is  hit  on,     Cau- 

10  tious  Boehmer  shall  write  out,  on  finest  paper,  his 
terms ;  which  are  really  rather  fair :  Sixteen  hundred 
thousand  livres ;  to  be  paid  in  five  equal  instalments ; 
the  first  this  day  six  months  ;  the  other  four  from  three 
months  to  three  months ;  this  *is  what  Court-Jewellers 

15  Boehmer  and  Bassange,  on  the  one  part,  and  Prince 
Cardinal  Commendator  Louis  de  Rohan,  on  the  other 
part,  will  stand  to ;  witness  their  hands.  Which  written 
sheet  of  finest  paper  our  poor  Countess  must  again  take 
charge  of,  again  dash-off  with  to  Versailles ;  and  there- 

20  from,  after  trouble  unspeakable  (shared  in  only  by  the 
faithful  Villette,  of  Rascaldom),  return  with  it,  bearing 
this  most  precious  marginal  note,  '' Bo7i  —  Marie-Antoi- 
nette de  France,^'  in  the  Autograph-hand !  Happy  Car- 
dinal !  this  thou  shalt  keep  in  the  innermost  of  all  thy 

25  repositories.  Boehmer  meanwhile,  secret  as  Death,  shall 
tell  no  man  that  he  has  sold  his  Necklace  ;  or  if  much 
pressed  for  an  actual  sight  of  the  same,  confess  that  it 
is  sold  to  the  Favorite  Sultana  of  the  Grand  Turk  for 
the  time  being. 

Thus,  then,  do  the  smoking  Lamotte  horses  at  length 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  109 

get  rubbed  down,  and  feel  the  taste  of  oats,  after  mid- 
night ;  the  Lamotte  Countess  can  also  gradually  sink 
into  needful  slumber,  perhaps  not  unbroken  by  dreams. 
On  the  morrow  the  bargain  shall  be  concluded ;  next 
day  the  Necklace  be  delivered,  on  Monseigneur's  receipt.  5 

Will  the  reader,  therefore,  be  pleased  to  glance  at  the 
following  two  Life-Pictures,  Real-Phantasmagories,  or 
whatever  we  may  call  them  ;  they  are  the  two  first  of 
those  Three  scenic  real-poetic  exhibitions,  brought  about 
by  our  Dramaturgist :  short  Exhibitions,  but  essential  lo 
ones. 


110  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

THE   NECKLACE   VANISHES. 

It  is  the  first  day  of  February ;  that  grand  day  of 
Delivery.  The  Sieur  Boehmer  is  in  the  Court  of  the 
Palais  de  Strasbourg;  his  look  mysterious-officialj  and 
though  much  emaciated,  radiant  with  enthusiasm.  The 
5  Seine  has  missed  him ;  though  lean,  he  will  fatten  again, 
and  live  through  new  enterprises. 

Singular,  were  we  not  used  to  it :  the  name  "  Boehmer," 
as  it  passes  upwards  and  inwards,  lowers  all  halberts 
of  Heyducs  in   perpendicular  rows :  the  historical  eye 

10  beholds  him,  bowing  low,  with  plenteous  smiles,  in 
the  plush  Saloon  of  Audience.  Will  it  please  Mon- 
seigneur,  then,  to  do  the  ne-plus-ultra  of  Necklaces  the 
honor  of  looking  at  it  ?  A  piece  of  Art,  which  the 
Universe  cannot  parallel,  shall  be  parted  with  (Neces- 

15  sity  compels  Court- Jewellers)  at  that  ruinously  low  sum. 
They,  the  Court-Jewellers,  shall  have  much  ado  to 
weather  it;  but  their  work,  at  least,  will  find  a  fit 
Wearer,  and  go  down  to  juster  posterity.  Monseigneur 
will  merely  have  the  condescension  to  sign  this  Receipt 

20  of  Delivery :  all  the  rest,  her  Highness  the  Sultana  of 
the  Sublime  Porte  has  settled  it.  —  Here  the  Court- 
Jeweller,  with  his  joyous  though  now  much-emaciated 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  Ill 

face,  ventures  on  a  faint  knowing  smile ;  to  which,  in  the 
lofty  dissolute-serene  of  Monseigneur's,  some  twinkle  of 
permission  could  not  but  respond.  —  This  is  the  First 
of  those  Three  real-poetic  Exhibitions,  brought  about  by 
our  Dramaturgist,  —  with  perfect  success.  5 

It  was  said,  long  afterwards,  that  Monseigneur  should 
have  known,  and  even  that  Boehmer  should  have  known, 
her  Highness  the  Sultana's  marginal  note,  her  '^  Right  — 
Marie  Antoinette  of  France,^^  to  be  a  forgery  and  mock- 
ery :  the  "  of  France  "  was  fatal  to  it.  Easy  talking,  easy  lo 
criticising !  But  how  are  two  enchanted  men  to  know  ; 
two  men  with  a  fixed-idea  each,  a  negative  and  a  pos- 
itive, rushing  together  to  neutralize  each  other  in  rap- 
ture ?  — Enough,  Monseigneur  has  the  ne-plus-ultra  of 
Necklaces,  conquered  by  man's  valor  and  woman's  wit ;  16 
and  rolls  off  with  it,  in  mysterious  speed,  to  Versailles, 
—  triumphant  as  a  Jason  with  his  Golden  Fleece. 

The  Second  grand  scenic  Exhibition  by  our  Drama- 
turgic Countess  occurs  in  her  own  apartment  at  Ver- 
sailles, so  early  as  the  following  night.  It  is  a  commo-  20 
dious  apartment,  with  alcove ;  and  the  alcove  has  a  glass 
door.  Monseigneur  enters,  —  with  a  follower  bearing  a 
mysterious  Casket,  who  carefully  deposits  it,  and  then 
respectfully  withdraws.  It  is  the  Necklace  itself  in  all 
its  glory  !  Our  tutelary  Countess,  and  Monseigneur,  and  25 
we,  can  at  leisure  admire  the  queenly  Talisman ;  con- 
gratulate ourselves  that  the  painful  conquest  of  it  is 
achieved. 

But,  hist !    A  knock,  mild   but  decisive,  as  from  one 
knocking  with  authority  !    Monseigneur  and  we  retire 


112  THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

to  our  alcove ;  there  from  behind  our  glass  screen,  ob- 
serve what  passes.  Who  coines  ?  The  door  flung  open : 
de  par  la  Reine  !  Behold  him,  Monseigneur :  he  enters 
with  grave,  respectful,  yet  official  air ;  worthy  Monsieur 

5  Queen's- valet  Lesclaux,  the  same  who  escorted  our 
tutelary  Countess,  that  moonlight  night,  from  the  back 
apartments  of  Versailles.  Said  we  not,  thou  wouldst 
see  him  once  more? — Methinks,  again,  spite  of  his 
Queen's-uniform,  he  has  much  the  features  of  Villette  of 

10  Rascaldom  !  —  Rascaldom  or  Valetdom  (for  to  the  blind 

.  all  colors  are  the  same),  he  has,  with  his  grave,  respect- 
ful, yet  official  air,  received  the  Casket,  and  its  priceless 
contents  ;  with  fit  injunction,  with  fit  engagements  ;  and 
retires  bowing  low. 

15  Thus  softly,  silently,  like  a  very  Dream,  flits  away  our 
solid  Necklace  —  through  the  Horn  Gate  of  Dreams  ! 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  113 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

SCENE   THIRD  :     BY    DAME    DE    LAMOTTE. 

Now  too,  in  these  same  days  (as  he  can  afterwards 
prove  by  affidavit  of  Landlords)  arrives  Count  Cagliostro 
himself,  from  Lyons  !  No  longer  by  predictions  in  cipher ; 
but  by  liis  living  voice,  often  in  rapt  communion  with 
the  unseen  world,  "  with  Caraffe  and  four  candles  ; "  by  5 
his  greasy  prophetic  bull-dog  face,  said  to  be  the  "  most 
perfect  quack-face  of  the  eighteenth  century,"  can  we 
assure  ourselves  that  all  is  well;  that  all  will  turn  "to 
the  glory  of  Monseigneur,  to  the  good  of  France,  and 
of  mankind,"  and  of  Egyptian  masonry.  "  Tokay  flows  10 
like  water ; "  our  charming  Countess,  with  her  piquancy 
of  face,  is  sprightlier  than  ever ;  enlivens  with  the 
brightest  sallies,  with  the  adroitest  flatteries  to  all, 
those  suppers  of  the  gods.  0  Nights,  0  Suppers — too 
good  to  last !  Nay,  now  also  occurs  another  and  Third  15 
scenic  Exhibition,  fitted  by  its  radiance  to  dispel  from 
Monseigneur's  soul  the  last  trace  of  care. 

Why  the  Queen  does  not,  even  yet,  openly  receive  me 
at  Court  ?    Patience,  Monseigneur  !     Thou  little  know- 
est  those  too  intricate  cabals  ;  and  how  she  still  but  20 
works  at  them  silently,  with  royal  suppressed  fury,  like 
a  royal  lioness  only  delivering  herself  from  the.  hunter's 


114  THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

toils.  Meanwhile,  is  not  thy  work  done  ?  The  Neck- 
lace, she  rejoices  over  it ;  beholds,  many  times  in  secret, 
her  Juno-neck  mirrored  back  the  lovelier  for  it,  —  as  our 
tutelar  Countess  can  testify.     Come  to-morrow  to  the 

5  (Eil-de-Bceuf ;  there  see  with  eyes,  in  high  noon,  as  al- 
ready in  deep  midnight  thou  hast  seen,  whether  in  her 
royal  heart  there  were  delay. 

Let  us  stand,  then,  with  Monseigneur,  in  that  (Eil-de- 
Boeuf,  in  the  Versailles  Palace  Gallery;   for  all  well- 

10  dressed  persons  are  admitted :  there  the  Loveliest,  in 
pomp  of  royalty,  will  walk  to  mass.  The  world  is  all 
in  pelisses  and  winter  furs ;  cheerful,  clear,  —  with 
noses  tending  to  blue.  A  lively  many-voiced  hum  plays 
fitful,  hither  and  thither :  of  sledge  parties  and  Court 

15  parties  ;  frosty  state  of  the  weather ;  stability  of  M.  de 
Calonne;  Majesty's  looks  yesterday;  —  such  hum  as 
always,  in  these  sacred  Court-spaces,  since  Louis  le 
Grand  made  and  consecrated  them,  has,  with  more  or 
less  impetuosity,  agitated  our  common  Atmosphere. 

20  Ah,  through  that  long  high  Gallery  what  Figures 
have  passed  —  and  vanished  !  Louvois,  —  with  the  Great 
King,  flashing  fire-glances  on  the  fugitive  ;  in  his  red 
right  hand  a  pair  of  tongs,  which  pious  Maintenon 
hardly    holds    back :    Louvois,   where    art    thou  ?    Ye 

25  Marechaux  de  France  ?  Ye  unmentionable-women  of 
past  generations  ?  Here  also  was  it  that  rolled  and 
rushed  the  "  sound,  absolutely  like  thunder,"  of  Cour- 
tier hosts;  in  that  dark  hour  when  the  signal-light  ia 
Louis  the  Fifteenth's  chamber-window  was  blown  out ; 
and  his  ghastly  infectious  Corpse  lay  lone,  forsaken  on 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  115 

its  tumbled  death-lair,  ''  in  the  hands  of  some  poor 
women;"  and  the  Courtier-hosts  rushed  from  the 
Deep-fallen  to  hail  the  ISTew-risen  !  These  too  rushed, 
and  passed ;  and  their  "  sound,  absolutely  like  thun- 
der," became  silence.  Figures  ?  Men  ?  They  are  fast-  5 
fleeting  Shadows ;  fast  chasing  each  other :  it  is  not  a 
Palace,  but  a  Caravansera.  ■ —  Monseigneur  (with  thy  too 
much  Tokay  overnight)  !  cease  puzzling :  here  thou  art, 
this  blessed  February  day  :  —  the  Peerless,  will  she  turn 
lightly  that  high  head  of  hers,  and  glance  aside  into  the  10 
(Eil-de-Boeuf,  in  passing  ?  Please  Heaven,  she  will.  To 
our  tutelary  Countess,  at  least,  she  promised  it ;  though, 
alas,  so  fickle  is  womankind  !  — 

Hark !     Clang  of  opening  doors  !     She  issues,  like  the 
Moon   in   silver  brightness,  down   the   Eastern   steeps.  15 
La  Reine  vient !     What  a  figure !     I  (with  the  aid  of 
glasses)  discern  her.     0  Fairest,  Peerless !  Let  the  hum 
of  minor  discoursing  hush  itself  wholly ;  and  only  one 
successive  rolling  peal  of   Vive  la  Reine,  like  the  mov- 
able radiance  of  a  train  of  fire-works,  irradiate  her  path.  20 
—  Ye    Immortals !     She   does,  she   beckons,  turns   her 
head  this  way! — "Does  she  not?"  says  Countess  de 
Lamotte. — Versailles,  the    (Eil-de-Bceuf,  and    all  men 
and  things  are  drowned  in  a  Sea  of  Light ;  Monseigneur 
and  that  high  beckoning  Head  are  alone,  with  each  other  25 
in  the  Universe. 

0  Eminence,  what  a  beatific  vision !  Enjoy  it,  blest 
as  the  gods ;  ruminate  and  re-enjoy  it,  with  full  soul :  it 
is  the  last  provided  for  thee.    Too  soon,  in  the  course  of 


116  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

these  six  months,  shall  thy  beatific  vision,  like  Mirza's 
vision,  gradually  melt  away ;  and  only  oxen  and  sheep 
be  grazing  in  its  place ;  —  and  thou,  as  a  doomed  Nebu- 
chadnezzar, be  grazing  with  them. 
5  "  Does  she  not  ?  "  said  the  Countess  de  Lamotte.  That 
it  is  a  habit  of  hers ;  that  hardly  a  day  passes  without 
her  doing  it :  this  the  Countess  de  Lamotte  did  not  say. 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  117 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE    NECKLACE    CANNOT    BE    PAID. 

Here,  then,  the  specially  Dramaturgic  labors  of 
Countess  de  Lamotte  may  be  said  to  terminate.  The 
rest  of  her  life  is  Histrionic  merely,  or  Histrionic  and 
Critical ;  as,  indeed,  what  had  all  the  former  part  of  it 
been  but  a  Hypocrisia,a,  more  or  less  correct  Playing  of  5 
Parts?  0  "Mrs.  Facing-both-ways "  (as  old  Bunyan 
said),  what  a  talent  hadst  thou  !  No  Proteus  ever  took 
so  many  shapes,  no  Chameleon  so  often  changed  color. 
One  thing  thou  wert  to  Monseigneur ;  another  thing  to 
Cagliostro,  and  Villette  of  Eascaldom ;  a  third  thing  10 
to  the  World,  in  printed  Memoires ;  a  fourth  thing  to 
Philippe  Egalite  :  all  things  to  all  men ! 

Let  her,  however,  we  say,  but  manage  now  to  act  her 
own  parts,  with  proper  Histrionic  illusion ;  and,  by 
Critical  glosses,  give  her  past  Dramaturgy  the  fit  aspect,  15 
to  Monseigneur  and  others :  this  henceforth,  and  not 
new  Dramaturgy,  includes  her  whole  task.  Dramatic 
Scenes,  in  plenty,  will  follow  of  themselves  ;  especially 
that  Fourth  and  final  Scene,  spoken  of  above  as  by 
another  Author,  —  by  Destiny  itself.  20 

For  in  the  Lamotte  Theatre,  so   different   from   our 
common  Pasteboard  one,  the  Play  goes  on,  even  when 


118  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

the  Machinist  has  left  it.  Strange  enough :  those  Air- 
images,  which  from  her  Magic-lantern  she  hung  out  on 
the  empty  bosom  of  Night,  have  clutched  hold  of  this 
solid-seeming  World  (which  some  call  the  Material 
5  World,  as  if  that  made  it  more  a  Real  one),  and  will 
tumble  hither  and  thither  the  solidest  masses  there. 
Yes,  reader,  so  goes  it  here  below.  What  thou  callest 
a  Brain-web,  or  mere  illusive  Nothing,  is  it  not  a  web 
of  the  Brain ;  of  the  Spirit  which  inhabits  the  Brain ; 

10  and  which,  in  this  World  (rather,  as  I  think,  to  be 
named  the  Spiritual  one),  very  naturally  moves  and 
tumbles  hither  and  thither  all  things  it  meets  with,  in 
Heaven  or  in  Earth  ?  —  So  too,  the  Necklace,  though  we 
saw  it  vanish  through  the  Horn  Gate  of  Dreams,  and  in 

15  my  opinion  man  shall  never  more  behold  it, — yet  its 
activity  ceases  not,  nor  will.  For  no  Act  of  a  man,  no 
Thing  (how  much  less  the  man  himself  !)  is  extinguished 
when  it  disappears :  through  considerable  times  it  still 
visibly  works,  though  done  and  vanished ;  I  have  known 

20  a  done  thing  work  visibly  Three  Thousand  Years  and 
more :  invisibly,  unrecognized,  all  done  things  work 
through  endless  times  and  years.  Such  a  Hypermagical 
is  this  our  poor  old  Real  world  ;  which  some  take  upon 
them  to  pronounce  elfete,  prosaic !     Friend,  it  is  thyself 

26  that  art  all  withered  up  into  effete  Prose,  dead  as  ashes  : 
know  this  (I  advise  thee) ;  and  seek  passionately,  with 
a  passion  little  short  of  desperation,  to  have  it  remedied. 
Meanwhile,  what  will  the  feeling  heart  think  to  learn 
that  Monseigneur  de  Rohan,  as  we  prophesied,  again 
experiences  the  fickleness  of   a  Court;  that,  notwith- 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  119 

standing  the  beatific  visions,  at  noon  and  midnight,  the 
Queen's  Majesty,  with  the  light  ingratitude  of  her  sex, 
flies  off  at  a  tangent ;  and,  far  from  ousting  his  detested 
and  detesting  rival,  Minister  Breteuil,  and  openly 
delighting  to  honor  Monseigneur,  will  hardly  vouch-  5 
safe  him  a  few  gilt  Autographs,  and  those  few  of 
the  most  capricious,  suspicious,  soul-confnsing  tenor? 
What  terrifico-absurd  explosions,  which  scarcely  Cagli- 
ostro,  with  Caraffe  and  four  candles,  can  still;  how 
many  deep-weighed  Humble  Petitions,  Explanations,  lo 
Expostulations,  penned  with  fervidest  eloquence,  with 
craftiest  diplomacy,  —  all  delivered  by  our  tutelar 
Countess:  in  vain  !  —  0  Cardinal,  with  what  a  huge  iron 
mace,  like  Guy  of  Warwick's,  thou  smitest  Phantasms  in 
two,  which  close  again,  take  shape  again ;  and  only  15 
thrashest  the  air ! 

One  comfort,  however,  is  that  the  Queen's  Majesty  has 
committed  herself.  The  Rose  of  Trianon,  and  what  may 
pertain  thereto,  lies  it  not  here  ?  That  ''Right — Marie 
Antoinette  of  France,"  too ;  and  the  30th  of  July,  first-  20 
instalment-day,  coming  ?  She  shall  be  brought  to  terms, 
good  Eminence !  Order  horses  and  beef-eaters  for 
Saverne ;  there,  ceasing  all  written  or  oral  communica- 
tion, starve  her  into  capitulating.  It  is  the  bright  May 
month :  his  Eminence  again  somnambulates  the  Prome-  25 
node  de  la  Hose  ;  but  now  with  grim  dry  eyes  ;  and,  from 
time  to  time,  terrifically  stamping. 

But  who  is  this  that  I  see  mounted  on  costliest  horse  and 
horse-gear ;  betting  at  Newmarket  Races ;  though  he  can 
speak  no  English  word,  and  only  some  Chevalier  O'Niel, 


120  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

some  Capuchin  Macdermot,  from  Bar-sur-Aube,  interprets 
his  French  into  the  dialect  of  the  Sister  Island  ?  Few  days 
ago  I  observed  him  Avalking  in  Fleet-street,  thoughtfully 
through   Temple-Bar  ;  —  in    deep    treaty  with   Jeweller 

5  Jeffreys,  with  Jeweller  Grey,  for  the  sale  of  Diamonds : 
such  a  lot  as  one  may  boast  of.  A  tall  handsome  man  ; 
with  ex-military  whiskers ;  with  a  look  of  troubled 
gayety,  and  rascalism  :  yoii  think  it  is  the  Sieur  self- 
styled  Count   de  Lamotte ;   nay  the   man   himself  con- 

10  f esses  it !  The  Diamonds  were  a  present  to  his  Count- 
ess, —  from  the  still-bountiful  Queen, 

Villette  too,  has  he  completed  his  sales  at  Amsterdam  ? 
Him  I  shall  by  and  by  behold;  not  betting  at  I^ew- 
market,  but   drinking  wine   and  ardent    spirits    in  the 

15  Taverns  of  Geneva.  Ill-gotten  wealth  endures  not ; 
Rascaldom  has  no  strong-box.  Countess  de  Lamotte, 
for  what  a  set  of  cormorant  scoundrels  hast  thou 
labored,  art  thou  still  laboring  ! 

Still  laboring,  we  may  say :  for  as  the  fatal  30th  of 

20  July  approaches,  what  is  to  be  looked  for  but  uni- 
versal Earthquake ;  Mud-explosion  that  will  blot-out  the 
face  of  Nature"?  Methinks,  stood  I  in  thy  pattens.  Dame 
de  Lamotte,  I  would  cut  and  run.  —  '•  Eun  ! "  exclaims 
she,  with  a  toss  of   indignant  astonishment:    "Calum- 

25  niated  Innocence  run  ? "  For  it  is  singular  how  in 
some  minds,  which  are  mere  bottomless  "chaotic  whirl- 
pools of  gilt  shreds,"  there  is  no  deliberate  Lying  what- 
ever; and  nothing  is  either  believed  or  disbelieved, 
but  only  (with  some  transient  suitable  Histrionic  emo- 
tion) spoken  and  heard. 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  121 

Had  Dame  de  Lamotte  a  certain  greatness  of  character, 
then;  at  least,  a  strength  of  transcendent  audacity, 
amounting  to  the  bastard-heroic  ?  Great,  indubitably 
great,  is  her  Dramaturgic  and  Histrionic  talent ;  but  as 
for  the  rest,  one  must  answer,  with  reluctance,  No.  Mrs.  5 
Facing-both-ways  is  a  "  Spark  of  vehement  Life,"  but 
the  farthest  in  the  world  from  a  brave  woman :  she  did 
not,  in  any  case,  show  the  bravery  of  a  woman ;  did,  in 
many  cases,  show  the  mere  screaming  trepidation  of 
one.  Her  grand  quality  is  rather  to  be  reckoned  nega- 10 
tive :  the  "  untamableness  "  as  of  a  fly  ;  the  "  wax-cloth 
dress  "  from  which  so  much  ran  down  like  water.  Small 
sparrows,  as  I  learn,  have  been  trained  to  fire  cannon ; 
but  would  make  poor  Artillery  Officers  in  a  "Waterloo. 
Thou  dost  not  call  that  Cork  a  strong  swimmer  ?  15 
Which  nevertheless  shoots,  without  hurt,  the  Falls  of 
Niagara;  defies  the  thunderbolt  itself  to  sink  it,  for 
more  than  a  moment.  Without  intellect,  imagination, 
power  of  attention,  or  any  spiritual  faculty,  how  brave 
were  one,  —  with  fit  motive  for  it,  such  as  hunger !  20 
How  much  might  one  dare,  by  the  simplest  of  methods, 
by  not  thinking  of  it,  not  knowing  it !  —  Besides,  is  not 
Cagliostro,  foolish  blustering  Quack,  still  here  ?  No 
scapegoat  had  ever  broader  back.  The  Cardinal  too,  has 
he  not  money  ?  Queen's  Majesty,  even  in  effigy,  shall  25 
not  be  insulted;  the  Soubises,  De  Marsans,  and  high 
and  puissant  Cousins,  must  huddle  the  matter  up :  Ca- 
lumniated Innocence,  in  the  most  universal  of  Earth- 
quakes, will  find  some  crevice  to  whisk  through,  as  she 
has  so  often  done. 


122  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

But  all  this  while  how  fares  it  with  his  Eminence, 
left  somnambulating  the  Promenade  de  la  Rose  ;  and  at 
times  truculently  stamping  ?  Alas,  ill,  and  ever  worse. 
The  starving  method,  singular  as  it  may  seem,  brings  no 

5  capitulation  ;  brings  only,  after  a  month's  waiting,  our 
tutelary  Countess,  with  a  gilt  Autograph,  indeed,  and 
"  all  wrapt  in  silk  threads,  sealed  where  they  cross,"  — 
but  which  we  read  with  curses. 

We  must  back  again  to  Paris  ;  there  pen  new  Expos- 

10  tulations  ;  which  our  unwearied  Countess  will  take  charge 
of,  but,  alas,  can  get  no  answer  to.  However,  is  not  the 
30th  of  July  coming  ?  —  Behold,  on  the  19th  of  that 
month,  the  shortest,  most  careless  of  Autographs  :  with 
some  fifteen  hundred  pounds  of  real  money  in  it,  to  pay 

15  the  —  interest  of  the  first  instalment ;  the  principal,  of 
some  thirty  thousand,  not  being  at  the  moment  perfectly 
convenient  I  Hungry  Boehmer  makes  large  eyes  at  this 
proposal ;  will  accept  the  money,  but  only  as  part  of 
payment ;  the  man  is  positive  :  a  Court  of  Justice,  if  no 

20  other  means,  shall  get  him  the  remainder.  What  now 
is  to  be  done  ? 

Farmer-general  Monsieur  Saint-James,  Cagliostro's 
disciple,  and  wet  with  Tokay,  will  cheerfully  advance 
the  sum  needed  —  for  her  Majesty's  sake  ;  thinks,  how- 

25  ever  (with  all  his  Tokay),  it  were  good  to  speak  with  her 
Majesty  first.  —  I  observe,  meanwhile,  the  distracted 
hungry  Boehmer  driven  hither  and  thither,  not  by  his 
fixed-idea ;  alas,  no,  but  by  the  far  more  frightful  ghost 
thereof,  —  since  no  payment  is  forthcoming.  He  stands, 
one    day,    speaking    with    a    Queen's    waiting-woman 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  123 

(Madame  Campan  herself),  in  "  a  thunder-shower,  which 
neither  of  them  notice,"  —  so  thunderstruck  are  they. 
What  weather-symptoms  for  his  Eminence  ! 

The  30th  of  July  has  come,  but  no  money  ;  the  30th 
is  gone,  but  no  money.     0  Eminence,  what  a  grim  fare-  5 
well  of  July  is  this  of  1785 !     The  last  July  went  out 
with   airs   from   Heaven,   and   Trianon   Roses.      These 
August  days,  are  they  not  worse  than  dog's  days ;  worthy 
to  be  blotted  out   from  all  Almanacs  ?     Boehmer   and 
Bassange  thou  canst  still  see ;  but  only  ''  return  from  10 
them  swearing."     Nay,  what  new  misery  is  this  ?     Our 
tutelary  Histrionic   Countess  enters,  distraction  in  her 
eyes ;  she  has  just  been  at  Versailles ;  the  Queen's  Ma- 
jesty, with  a  levity  of  caprice  which  we  dare   not  trust 
ourselves  to  characterize,  declares  plainly  that  she  will  15 
deny  ever  having  got  the  Necklace  ;  ever  having  had, 
with  his  Eminence,  any  transaction  whatsoever  !  —  Mud- 
explosion   without   parallel   in   volcanic   annals,  —  The 
Palais  de  Strasbourg  appears  to  be  beset  with  spies ;  the 
Lamottes,  for  the  Count  too  is  here,  are  packing-up  for  20 
Bar-sur-Aube.    The  Sieur  Boehmer,  has  he  fallen  insane  ? 
Or  into  communication  with  Minister  Breteuil  ?  — 

And  so,  distractedly  and  distractively,  to  the  sound  of 
all  Discords  in  Nature,  opens  that  Fourth,  final  Scenic 
Exhibition,  composed  by  Destiny.  25 


124  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

SCENE   FOURTH  :    BY    DESTINY. 

It  is  Assumption-day,  the  15th  of. August.  Don  thy 
pontificalia,  Grand- Almoner ;  crush  down  these  hideous 
temporalities  out  of  sight.  In  any  case,  smooth  thy 
countenance  into   some  sort  of  lofty-dissolute  serene : 

5  thou  hast  a  thing  they  call  worshipping  God  to  enact, 
thyself  the  first  actor. 

The  Grand-Almoner  has  done  it.  He  is  in  Versailles 
(EU-de^Bceuf  Gallery ;  where  male  and  female  Peerage, 
and  all  Noble  France  in  gala  various  and  glorious  as  the 

10  rainbow,  waits  only  the  signal  to  begin  worshipping :  on 
the  serene  of  his  lofty-dissolute  countenance  there  can 
nothing  be  read.  By  Heaven !  he  is  sent  for  to  the 
Royal  Apartment ! 

He  returns  with  the  old  lofty-dissolute  look,  inscruta- 

15  bly  serene :  has  his  turn  for  favor  actually  come,  then  ? 
Those  fifteen  long  years  of  soul's  travail  are  to  be  re- 
warded by  a  birth  ?  —  Monsieur  le  Baron  de  Breteuil 
issues ;  great  in  his  pride  of  place,  in  this  the  crowning 
moment  of  his  life.     With  one  radiant  glance,  Breteuil 

20  summons  the  Officer  on  Guard ;  with  another,  fixes  Mon- 
seigneur:  "De  par  le  Hoi,  Monseigneur :  you  are  ar- 
rested !    At  your  risk,  Officer  !  "  —  Curtains  as  of  pitch- 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  125 

black  whirlwind  envelop  Monseigneur ;  whirl  off  with 
him, — to  outer  darkness.  Versailles  Gallery  explodes 
aghast;  as  if  Guy  Fawkes's  Plot  had  burst  under  it. 
"The  Queen's  Majesty  was  weeping,"  whisper  some. 
There  will  be  no  Assumption-service ;  or  such  a  one  as  5 
was  never  celebrated  since  Assumption  came  in  fashion. 

Europe,  then,  shall  ring  with  it  from  side  to  side !  — 
But  why  rides  that  Heyduc  as  if  all  the  Devils  drove 
him  ?  It  is  Monseigneur's  Heyduc :  Monseigneur  spoke 
three  words  in  German  to  him,  at  the  door  of  his  Ver- 10 
sailles  Hotel ;  even  handed  him  a  slip  of  writing,  which, 
with  borrowed  Pencil,  "  in  his  red  square  cap,"  he  had 
managed  to  prepare  on  the  way  thither.  To  Paris !  To 
the  Palais-Cardinal !  The  horse  dies  on  reaching  the 
stable ;  the  Heyduc  swoons  on  reaching  the  cabinet :  15 
but  his  slip  of  writing  fell  from  his  hand ;  and  I  (says 
the  Abb4  Georgel)  was  there.  The  red  Portfolio,  con- 
taining all  the  gilt  Autographs,  is  burnt  utterly,  with 
much  else,  before  Breteuil  can  arrive  for  apposition  of 
the  seals  !  —  Whereby  Europe,  in  ringing  from  side  to  20 
side,  must  worry  itself  with  guessing  :  and  at  this  hour 
on  this  paper,  sees  the  matter  in  such  an  interesting 
clear-obscure. 

Soon  Count  Cagliostro  and  his  Seraphic  Countess  go 
to  join  Monseigneur,  in  State  Prison.  In  few  days,  fol-  25 
lows  Dame  de  Lamotte,  from  Bar-sur-Aube  ;  Demoiselle 
d'Oliva  by-and-by,  from  Brussels ;  Villette-de-K^taux, 
from  his  Swiss  retirement,  in  the  taverns  of  Geneva. 
The  Bastille  opens  its  iron  bosom  to  them  all. 


126  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


CHAPTER  LAST. 

MISSA   EST. 

Thus,  then,  the  Diamond  Necklace  having,  on  the  one 
hand,  vanished  through  the  Horn  Gate  of  Dreams,  and 
so,  under  the  pincers  of  Nisus  Lamotte  and  Euryalus 
Villette,  lost  its  sublunary  individuality  and  being ;  and, 

5  on  the  other  hand,  all  that  trafficked  in  it,  sitting  now 
safe  under  lock  and  key,  that  justice  may  take  cogni- 
zance of  them,  —  our  engagement  in  regard  to  the  mat- 
ter is  on  the  point  of  terminating.  That  extraordinary 
"  Proces  du    Collier,  Necklace   Trial,"   spinning    itself 

10  through  Nine  other  ever-memorable  Months,  to  the 
astonishment  of  the  hundred  and  eighty-seven  assem- 
bled Farlementiers,  and  of  all  Quidnuncs,  Journalists, 
Anecdotists,  Satirists,  in  both  Hemispheres,  is.  in  every 
sense,  a  "  Celebrated  Trial,"  and  belongs  to  Publishers  of 

15  such.  How,  by  innumerable  confrontations  and  expis- 
catory  questions,  through  entanglements,  doublings  and 
windings  that  fatigue  eye  and  soul,  this  most  involute 
of  Lies  is  finally  winded  off  to  the  scandalous-ridiculous 
cinder-heart  of  it,  let  others  relate. 

20  Meanwhile,  during  these  Nine  ever-memorable  Months, 
till  they  terminate  late  at  night  precisely  with  the  May 
of  1786,  how  many  fugitive  leaves,  quizzical,  imagina- 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  127 

tive,  or  at  least  mendacious,  were  flying  about  in  News- 
papers ;  or  stitched  together  as  Pamphlets ;  and  what 
heaps  of  others  were  left  creeping  in  Manuscript,  we 
shall  not  say ;  —  having,  indeed,  no  complete  Collection 
of  them,  and  what  is  more  to  the  purpose,  little  to  do  5 
with  such  Collection.  Nevertheless,  searching  for  some 
fit  Capital  of  the  composite  order,  to  adorn  adequately 
the  now  finished  singular  Pillar  of  our  Narrative,  what 
can  suit  us  better  than  the  following,  so  far  as  we  know, 
yet  unedited,  10 

Occasional  Discourse,  hy  Count  Alessandro  Cagliostro, 
Thaumaturgist,  Prophet  and  Arch-Quack  ;  delivered  in 
the  Bastille :  Year  of  Lucifer,  5789  ;  of  the  Mahometan 
Hegira  from  Mecca,  1201 ;  of  the  Cagliostric  Hegira 
from  Palermo,  24  ;  of  the  Vulgar  Era,  1785.  15 

"  Fellow  Scoundrels,  —  An  unspeakable  Intrigue,  spun 
from  the  soul  of  that  Circe-Megsera,  by  our  voluntary  or 
involuntary  help,  has  assembled  us  all,  if  not  under  one 
roof-tree,  yet  within  one  grim  iron-bound  ring-wall.  For 
an  appointed  number  of  months,  in  the  ever-rolling  flow  20 
of  Time,  we,  being  gathered  from  the  four  winds,  did 
by  Destiny  work  together  in  body  corporate  ;  and  joint 
laborers  in  a  Transaction  already  famed  over  the  Globe, 
obtain  unity  of  Name,  like  the  Argonauts  of  old,  as 
Conquerors  of  the  Diamond  Necklace.  Erelong  it  is  done  25 
(for  ring-walls  hold  not  captive  the  free  Scoundrel  for- 
ever) ;  and  we  disperse  again,  over  wide  terrestrial 
Space  ;  some  of  us,  it  may  be,  over  the  very  marches 
of  Space.     Our  Act  hangs  indissoluble  together ;  floats 


128  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

wondrous  in  the  older  and  older  memory  of  men  :  while 
we  the  little  band  of  Scoundrels,  who  saw  each  other, 
now  hover  so  far  asunder,  to  see  each  other  no  more,  if 
not  once  more  only  on  the  universal  Doomsday,  the  Last 
5  of  the  Days  ! 

'•'  In  such  interesting  moments,  while  we  stand  within 
the  verge  of  parting,  and  have  not  yet  parted,  methinks 
it  were  well  here,  in  these  sequestered  Spaces,  to  insti- 
tute a  few  general  reflections.     Me,  as  a  public  speaker, 

10  the  Spirit  of  Masonry,  of  Philosophy,  and  Philanthropy, 
and  even  of  Prophecy,  blowing  mysterious  from  the 
Land  of  Dreams,  impels  to  do  it.  Give  ear,  0  Fellow 
Scoundrels,  to  what  the  Spirit  utters;  treasure  it  in 
your  hearts,  practise  it  in  your  lives. 

15  "  Sitting  here,  penned-up  in  this  which,  with  a  slight 
metaphor,  I  call  the  Central  Cloaca  of  Nature,  where  a 
tyrannical  De  Launay  can  forbid  the  bodily  eye  free 
vision,  you  with  the  mental  eye  see  but  tlie  better. 
This  Central  Cloaca,  is  it  not  rather  a  Heart,  into  which, 

20  from  all  regions,  mysterious  conduits  introduce  and 
forcibly  inject  whatsoever  is  choicest  in  the  Scoundrel- 
ism  of  the  Earth ;  there  to  be  absorbed,  or  again  (by  the 
other  auricle)  ejected  into  new  circulation  ?  Let  the  eye 
of  the  mind  run  along  this  immeasurable  venous-arterial 

25  system ;  and  astound  itself  with  the  magnificent  extent 
of  Scoundreldom ;  the  deep,  I  may  say,  unfathomable, 
significance  of  Scoundrelism. 

'•Yes,  brethren,  wide  as  the  sun's  range  is  our  Empire, 
wider  than  old  Rome's  in  its  palmiest  era.  I  have  in 
my  time  been  far ;  in  frozen  Muscovy,  in  hot  Calabria, 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  129 

east,  west,  wheresoever  the  sky  overarches  civilized 
man :  and  never  hitherto  saw  I  myself  an  alien  ;  out  of 
Scoundreldom  I  never  was.  Is  it  not  even  said,  from 
of  old,  by  the  opposite  party  :  '  All  men  are  liars  '  ?  Do 
they  not  (and  this  nowise  'in  haste ')  whimperingly  talk  5 
of  *  one  just  person '  (as  they  call  him),  and  of  the  re- 
maining thousand  save  one  that  take  part  with  us  ?  So 
decided  is  ovir  majority."  —  (Applause.) 

"  Of  the  Scarlet  Woman,  —  yes,  Monseigneur,  without 
offence,  —  of  the  Scarlet  Woman  that  sits  on  Seven  Hills,  lo 
and  her  Black  Jesuit  Militia,  out  foraging  from  Pole  to 
Pole,  I  speak  not ;  for  the  story  is  too  trite  :  nay,  the 
Militia  itself,  as  I  see,  begins  to  be  disbanded,  and  inval- 
ided, for  a  second  treachery ;  treachery  to  herself ! 
Nor  yet  of  Governments  ;  for  a  like  reason.  Ambassa- 15 
dors,  said  an  English  punster,  lie  abroad  for  their 
masters.  Their  masters,  we  answer,  lie  at  home  for 
themselves.  Not  of  all  this,  nor  of  Courtship  with  its 
Lovers'-vows,  nor  Courtiership,  nor  Attorneyism,  nor 
Public  Oratory,  and  Selling  by  Auction,  do  I  speak :  I  20 
simply  ask  the  gainsayer,  Which  is  the  particular  trade, 
profession,  mystery,  calling,  or  pursuit  of  the  Sons  of 
Adam  that  they  successfully  manage  in  the  other  way  ? 
He  cannot  answer !  — No  :  Philosophy  itself,  both  prac- 
tical and  even  speculative,  has  at  length,  after  shame-  25 
fullest  groping,  stumbled  on  the  plain  conclusion  that 
Sham  is  indispensable  to  Reality,  as  Lying  to  Living ; 
that  without  Lying  the  whole  business  of  the  world, 
from  swaying  of  senates  to  selling  of  tapes,  must  ex- 
plode into  anarchic  discords,  and  so  a  speedy  conclusion 
ensue. 


130  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

"But  the  grand  problem,  Fellow  Scoundrels,  as  you 
well  know,  is  the  marrying  of  Truth  and  Sham ;  so  that 
they  become  one  flesh,  man  and  wife,  and  generate  these 
three :  Profit,  Pudding,  and  Eespectability  that  always 

5  keeps  her  Gig.  Wondrously,  indeed,  do  Truth  and 
Delusion  play  into  one  another ;  Reality  rests  on  Dream. 
Truth  is  but  the  skin  of  the  bottomless  Untrue :  and 
ever,  from  time  to  time,  the  Untrue  sheds  it ;  is  clear 
again;   and  the  superannuated  True  itself  becomes   a 

10  Fable.  Thus  do  all  hostile  things  crumble  back  into 
our  Empire  ;  and  of  its  increase  there  is  no  end. 

"  0  brothers,  to  think  of  the  Speech  without  meaning 
(which  is  mostly  ours),  and  of  the  Speech  with  contrary 
meaning  (which  is  wholly  ours),  manufactured  by  the 

15  organs  of  Mankind  in  one  solar  day  I  Or  call  it  a  day 
of  Jubilee,  when  public  Dinners  are  given,  and  Dinner- 
orations  are  delivered  :  or  say,  a  Neighboring  Island  in 
time  of  General  Election  !  0  ye  immortal  gods  !  The 
mind  is  lost ;  can  only  admire  great  Nature's  plenteous- 

20  ness  with  a  kind  of  sacred  wonder. 

" For  tell  me,  What  is  the  chief  end  of  man?  *To 
glorify  God,'  said  the  old  Christian  Sect,  now  happily 
extinct.  'To  eat  and  find  eatables  by  the  readiest 
method,'  answers  sound  Philosophy,  discarding  whims. 

25  If  the  method  readier  than  this  of  persuasive-attraction 
is  yet  discovered,  —  point  it  out !  —  Brethren,  I  said 
the  old  Christian  Sect  was  happily  extinct :  as,  indeed, 
in  Rome  itself,  there  goes  the  wonderfullest  traditionary 
Prophecy,  of  that  Nazareth  Christ  coming  back,  and 
being  crucified  a  second  time  there ;  which  truly  I  see 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  131 

not  in  the  least  how  he  could  fail  to  be.  Nevertheless, 
that  old  Christian  whim,  of  an  actual  living  and  ruling 
God,  and  some  sacred  covenant  binding  all  men  in  Him, 
with  much  other  mystic  stuff,  does,  under  new  or  old 
shape,  linger  with  a  few.  From  these  few  keep  your-  5 
selves  forever  far  !  They  must  even  be  left  to  their 
whim,  which  is  not  like  to  prove  infectious. 

"  But  neither  are  we,  my  Fellow  Scoundrels,  without 
our  Religion,  our  Worship ;  which,  like  the  oldest,  and 
all  true  Worships,  is  one  of  Fear.  The  Christians  have  10 
their  Cross,  the  Moslem  their  Crescent :  but  have  not  we 
too  our  —  Gallows  ?  Yes,  infinitely  terrible  is  the  Gal- 
lows ;  it  bestrides  with  its  patibulary  fork  the  Pit  of 
bottomless  Terror.  No  Manicheans  are  we ;  our  God  is 
One.  Great,  exceeding  great,  I  say,  is  the  Gallows ;  of  15 
old,  even  from  the  beginning,  in  this  world  ;  knowing 
neither  variableness  nor  decadence ;  forever,  forever, 
over  the  wreck  of  ages,  and  all  civic  and  ecclesiastic 
convulsions,  meal-mobs,  revolutions,  the  Gallows  with 
front  serenely  terrible  towers  aloft.  Fellow  Scoundrels,  20 
fear  the  Gallows  and  have  no  other  fear !  This  is  the 
Law  and  the  Prophets.  Fear  every  emanation  of  the 
Gallows.  And  what  is  every  buffet,  with  the  fist,  or 
even  with  the  tongue,  of  one  having  authority,  but  some 
such  emanation  ?  And  what  is  Force  of  Public  Opinion  25 
but  the  infinitude  of  such  emanations,  —  rushing  com- 
bined on  you,  like  a  mighty  storm-wind  ?  Fear  the  Gal- 
lows, I  say !  0  when,  with  its  long  black  arm,  it  has 
clutched  a  man,  what  avail  him  all  terrestrial  things  ? 
These  pass  away,  with  horrid  nameless  dinning  in  his 


132  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

ears ;  and  the  ill-starred  Scoundrel  pendulates  between 
Heaven  and  Earth,  a  thing  rejected  of  both.'"  —  (Pro- 
found sensation.) 

"Such,   so   wide   in   compass,    high,  gallows-high   in 

5  dignity,  is  the  Scoundrel  Empire ;  and  for  depth,  it  is 
deeper  than  the  Foundations  of  the  World.  For  what 
was  Creation  itself  wholly,  according  to  the  best  Phi- 
losophers, but  a  Divulsion  by  the  Time-Spirit  (or  Devil 
so  called)  ;  a  forceful  Interruption,  or  breaking  asunder, 

10  of  the  old  Quiescence  of  Eternity  ?  It  was  Lucifer  that 
fell,  and  made  this  lordly  World  arise.  Deep  ?  It  is 
bottomless-deep ;  the  very  Thought,  diving,  bobs  up 
from  it  baf&ed.  Is  not  this  that  they  call  Vice  of  Ly- 
ing the  Adam-Kadmon,  or  primeval  Rude-Element,  old 

15  as  Chaos  mother's-womb  of  Death  and  Hell ;  whereon 
their  thin  film  of  Virtue,  Truth  and  the  like,  poorly 
wavers  —  for  a  day  ?  All  Virtue,  what  is  it,  even  by 
their  own  showing,  but  Vice  transformed,  —  that  is, 
manufactured,  rendered   artificial  ?     *  Man's    Vices    are 

20  the  roots  from  which  his  Virtues  grow  out  and  see  the 
light,'  says  one :  '  Yes,'  add  I,  '  and  thanklessly  steal 
their  nourishment ! '  Were  it  not  for  the  nine  hundred 
ninety  and  nine  unacknowledged,  perhaps  martyred  and 
calumniated  Scoundrels,  how  were  their  single  Just  Per- 

25  son  (with  a  murrain  on  him  !)  so  much  as  possible  ?  — 
Oh,  it  is  high,  high :  these  things  are  too  great  for  me ; 
Intellect,  Imagination,  flags  her  tired  wings ;  the  soul 
lost,  baffled  "  — 

—  Here  Dame  de  Lamotte  tittered  audibly,  and  mut- 
tered Coq-d'Inde,  which,  being  interpreted  into  the  Scot- 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  133 

tish  tongue,  signifies  Bubbly-Jock!  The  Arch-Quack, 
whose  eyes  were  turned  inwards  as  in  rapt  contempla- 
tion, started  at  the  titter  and  mutter :  his  eyes  flashed 
outwards  with  dilated  pupil ;  his  nostrils  opened  wide ; 
his  very  hair  seemed  to  stir  in  its  long  twisted  pigtails  5 
(his  fashion  of  curl)  ;  and  as  Indignation  is  said  to  make 
Poetry,  it  here  made  Prophecy,  or  what  sounded  as  such. 
With  terrible,  working  features,  and  gesticulation  not 
recommended  in  any  Book  of  Gesture,  the  Arch-Quack, 
in  voice  supernally  discordant,  like  Lions  worrying  Bulls  10 
of  Bashan,  began : 

"  Sniff  not.  Dame  de  Lamotte ;  tremble,  thou  foul 
Circe-Megaera ;  thy  day  of  desolation  is  at  hand !  Be- 
hold ye  the  Sanhedrim  of  Judges,  with  their  fanners  of 
written  Parchment,  loud-rustling,  as  they  winnow  all  15 
her  chaff  and  down-plumage,  and  she  stands  there  naked 
and  mean  ?  —  Villette,  Oliva,  do  ije  blab  secrets  ?  Ye  have 
no  pity  of  her  extreme  need ;  she  none  of  yours.  Is  thy 
light-giggling,  untamable  heart  at  last  heavy  ?  Hark  ye  ! 
Shrieks  of  one  cast  out ;  whom  they  brand  on  both  shoul-  20 
ders  with  iron  stamp ;  the  red-hot  *  V,'  thou  Voleuse,  hath 
it  entered  thy  soul  ?  Weep,  Circe  de  Lamotte  ;  wail 
there  in  truckle-bed,  and  hysterically  gnash  thy  teeth : 
nay  do,  smother  thyself  in  thy  door-mat  coverlid ;  thou 
hast  found  thy  mates;  thou  art  in  the  Salpetriere ! — 25 
Weep,  daughter  of  the  high  and  puissant  Sans-inexpres- 
sibles !  Buzz  of  Parisian  Gossipry  is  about  thee ;  but 
not  to  help  thee :  no,  to  eat  before  thy  time.  What 
shall  a  King's  Court  do  with  thee,  thou  unclean  thing, 
while  thou  yet  livest  ?     Escape  !    Plee  to  utmost  coun- 


134  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

tries,  hide  there,  if  thou  canst,  thy  mark  of  Cain !  — 
In  the  Babylon  of  Fogland  !  Ha  !  is  that  my  London  ? 
See  I  Judas  Iscariot  Egalit^  ?  Print,  yea  print  abun- 
dantly the  abominations  of  your  two  hearts  :  breath  of 
5  rattlesnakes  can  bedim  the  steel  mirror,  but  only  for  a 
time.  —  And  there !  Ay,  there  at  last !  Tumblest  thou 
from  the  lofty  leads,  poverty-stricken,  0  thriftless 
daughter  of  the  high  and  puissant,  escaping  bailiffs  ? 
Descendest  thou  precipitate,  in  dead  night,  from  win- 

10  dow  in  the  third  story ;  hurled  forth  by  Bacchanals,  to 
whom  thy  shrill  tongue  had  grown  unbearable  ?  Yea, 
through  the  smoke  of  that  new  Babylon  thou  fallest 
headlong ;  one  long  scream  of  screams  makes  night  hid- 
eous; thou  liest  there,  shattered  like  addle  egg,  'nigh 

16  to  the  Temple  of  Flora ! '  0  Lamotte,  has  thy  Hypocri- 
sia  ended,  then  ?  Thy  many  characters  were  all  acted. 
Here  at  last  thou  actest  not,  but  art  what  thou  seemest : 
a  mangled  squelch  of  gore,  confusion  and  abomination  ; 
which  men  huddle  underground,  with  no  burial-stone. 

20  Thou  gallows-carrion  ! "  — 

—  Here  the  prophet  turned  up  his  nose  (the  broadest 
of  the  eighteenth  century),  and  opened  wide  his  nostrils 
with  such  a  greatness  of  disgust,  that  all  the  audience, 
even  Lamotte  herself,  sympathetically  imitated  him.  — 

25  "  0  Dame  de  Lamotte  !  Dame  de  Lamotte  !  Now,  when 
the  circle  of  thy  existence  lies  complete ;  and  my  eye 
glances  over  these  two  score  and  three  years  that  were 
lent  thee,  to  do  evil  as  thou  couldst ;  and  I  behold  thee 
a  bright-eyed  little  Tatterdemalion,  begging  and  gather- 
ing sticks  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne ;  and  also  at  length 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  136 

a  squelched  Putrefaction,  here  on  London  pavements; 
with  the  head-dressings  and  hungerings,  the  gaddings 
and  hysterical  gigglings  that  came  between,  —  what 
shall  I  say  was  the  meaning  of  thee  at  all  ?  — 

"  Villette-de-R^taux  !  Have  the  catchpoles  trepanned  5 
thee,  by  sham  of  battle,  in  thy  Tavern,  from  the  sacred 
liepublican  soil  ?  It  is  thou  that  wert  the  hired  Forger 
of  Handwritings  ?  Thou  wilt  confess  it  ?  Depart,  un- 
whipt  yet  accursed.  —  Ha !  The  dread  Symbol  of  our 
Faith  ?  Swings  aloft,  on  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo,  a  lo 
Pendulous  Mass,  which  I  think  I  discern  to  be  the  body 
of  Villette !  There  let  him  end ;  the  sweet  morsel  of 
our  Juggernaut. 

"  Nay,  weep  not  thou,  disconsolate  Oliva ;  blear  not  thy 
bright  blue  eyes,  daughter  of  the  shady  Garden !  Thee  15 
shall  the  Sanhedrim  not  harm :  this  Cloaca  of  Nature 
emits  thee  ;  as  notablest  of  unfortunate-females,  thou 
shalt  have  choice  of  husbands  not  without  capital ;  and 
accept  one.     Know  this  ;  for  the  vision  of  it  is  true. 

"But  the  Anointed  Majesty  whom  ye  profaned  ?  20 
Blow,  spirit  of  Egyptian  Masonry,  blow  aside  the  thick 
curtains  of  Space  !  Lo  you,  her  eyes  are  red  with  their 
first  tears  of  pure  bitterness ;  not  with  their  last.  Tire- 
woman Campan  is  choosing,  from  the  Print-shops  of  the 
Quais,  the  reputed-best  among  the  hundred  likenesses  25 
of  Circe  de  Lamotte :  a  Queen  shall  consider  if  the 
basest  of  women  ever,  by  any  accident,  darkened  daylight 
or  candle-light  for  the  highest.  The  Portrait  answers : 
Never ! "  —  (Sensation  in  the  audience.) 

"  —  Ha!     What   is   this?     Angels,  Uriel,  Anachiel, 


136  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

and  ye  other  five ;  Pentagon  of  Eejuvenescence  ;  Power 
that  destroyedst  Original  Sin ;  Earth,  Heaven,  and  thou 
Outer  Limbo  which  men  name  Hell !  Does  the  Empire 
OF  Imposture  waver?      Burst  there,  in  starry  sheen, 

5  updarting.  Light-rays  from  out  its  dark  foundations; 
as  it  rocks  and  heaves,  not  in  travail-throes,  but  in 
death-throes  ?  Yea,  Light-rays,  piercing,  clear,  that 
salute  the  Heavens,  —  lo,  they  kindle  it ;  their  starry 
clearness  becomes  as  red  Hell-fire !      Imposture  is  in 

10  flames,  Imposture  is  burnt  up :  one  Eed-sea  of  Fire, 
wild-billowing  enwraps  the  World ;  with  its  fire-tongue 
licks  at  the  very  stars.  Thrones  are  hurled  into  it,  and 
Dubois  Mitres,  and  Prebendal  Stalls  that  drop  fatness, 
and  —  ha !  what  see  I  ?  —  all  the  Gigs  of  Creation :  all, 

15  all !  Woe  is  me  !  Never  since  Pharaoh's  Chariots,  in 
the  Red-sea  of  water,  was  there  wreck  of  Wheel-vehicles 
like  this  in  the  sea  of  Fire.  Desolate,  as  ashes,  as 
gases,  shall  they  Avander  in  the  wind. 

"Higher,  higher   yet  flames  the  Fire-Sea;  crackling 

20  with  new  dislocated  timber ;  hissing  with  leather  and 
prunella.  The  metal  Images  are  molten;  the  marble 
Images  become  mortar-lime ;  the  stone  Mountains 
sulkily  explode.  Eespectability,  with  all  her  collected 
Gigs   inflamed    for   funeral   pyre,    wailing,   leaves   the 

26  Earth :  not  to  return  save  under  new  Avatar.  Imposture, 
how  it  burns,  through  generations :  liow  it  is  burnt  up  — 
for  a  time.  The  World  is  black  ashes ;  which,  ah,  when 
will  they  grow  green  ?  The  Images  all  run  into  amor- 
phous Corinthian  brass ;  all  Dwellings  of  men  destroyed ; 
the  very  mountains  peeled  and  riven,  the  valleys  black 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  137 

and  dead :  it  is  an  empty  World !      Woe  to  them  that 

shall  be  born  then  ! A  King,  a  Queen  (ah  me  !)  were 

hurled  in ;  did  rustle  once ;  flew  aloft,  crackling,  like 
paper-scroll.  Oliva's  Husband  was  hurled  in ;  Iscariot 
Egalite ;  thou  grim  De  Launay,  with  thy  grim  Bastille ;  5 
whole  kindreds  and  peoples ;  live  millions  of  mutually 
destroying  Men,  For  it  is  the  End  of  the  Dominion  of 
Imposture  (which  is  Darkness  and  opaque  Firedamp)  ; 
and  the  burning-up,  with  unquenchable  fire,  of  all  the 
Gigs  that  are  in  the  Earth ! "  —  Here  the  Prophet  10 
paused,  fetching  a  deep  sigh ;  and  the  Cardinal  uttered 
a  kind  of  faint,  tremulous  Hem  ! 

"Mourn  not,  0  Monseigneiir,  spite  of  thy  nephritic 
colic  and  many  infirmities.  For  thee  mercifully  it  was 
not  unto  death.  0  Monseigneur  (for  thou  hadst  a  touch  15 
of  goodness),  who  would  not  weep  over  thee,  if  he  also 
laughed  ?  Behold !  The  not  too  judicious  Historian, 
that  long  years  hence,  amid  remotest  wildernesses, 
writes  thy  Life,  and  names  thee  Mud-volcano  ;  even  he 
shall  reflect  that  it  was  thy  Life  this  same ;  thy  only  20 
chance  through  whole  Eternity ;  which  thou  (poor 
gambler)  hast  expended  so:  and,  even  over  his  hard 
heart,  a  breath  of  dewy  pity  for  thee  shall  blow.  — 
0  Monseigneur,  thou  wert  not  all  ignoble :  thy  Mud- 
volcano  was  but  strength  dislocated,  fire  misapplied.  25 
Thou  wentest  ravening  through  the  world;  no  Life- 
elixir  or  Stone  of  the  Wise  could  we  two  (for  want  of 
funds)  discover :  a  foulest  Circe  undertook  to  fatten 
thee;  and  thou  hadst  to  fill  thy  belly  with  the  east 
wind.      And  burst  ?     By  the  Masonry  of  Enoch,  No  ! 


138  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

Behold,  has  not  thy  Jesuit  Familiar  his  Scouts  dim- 
flying  over  the  deep  of  human  things  ?  Cleared  art  thou 
of  crime,  save  that  of  fixed-idea;  weepest,  a  repentant 
exile,  in  the  Mountains  of  Auvergne.     Neither  shall  the 

5  Red  Fire-sea  itself  consume  thee ;  only  consume  thy  Gig, 
and,  instead  of  Gig  (0  rich  exchange !),  restore  thy  Self. 
Safe  beyond  the  Rhine-stream,  thou  livest  peaceful  days ; 
savest  many  from  the  fire,  and  anointest  their  smarting 
burns.    Sleep  finally,  in  thy  mother's  bosom,  in  a  good  old 

10  age  ! "  —  The  Cardinal  gave  a  sort  of  guttural  murmur, 
or  gurgle,  which  ended  in  a  long  sigh. 

"  0  Horrors,  as  ye  shall  be  called,"  again  burst  forth 
the  Quack,  "  why  have  ye  missed  the  Sieur  de  Lamotte ; 
why   not   of   him,   too,   made    gallows-carrion  ?      Will 

15  spear,  or  sword-stick,  thrust  at  him  (or  supposed  to  be 
thrust),  through  window  of  hackney-coach,  in  Piccadilly 
of  the  Babylon  of  Fog,  where  he  jolts  disconsolate,  not 
let  out  the  imprisoned  animal  existence  ?  Is  he  poisoned, 
too  ?     Poison  will  not  kill  the  Sieur  Lamotte ;  nor  steel, 

20  nor  massacres.     Let  him  drag  his  utterly  superfluous  life 
to  a  second  and  a  third  generation  ;  and  even  admit  the 
not  too  judicious  Historian  to  see  his  face  before  he  die. 
"But,  ha!"  cried  he,  and  stood  wide-staring,  horror- 
struck,  as  if  some  Cribb's  fist  had  knocked  the  wind  out 

25  of  him  :  "  0  horror  of  horrors  !  Is  it  not  Myself  I  see  ? 
Roman  Inquisition !  Long  months  of  cruel  baiting ! 
Life  of  Giuseppe  Balsamo !  Cagliostro's  Body  still 
lying  in  St.  Leo  Castle,  his  Self  fled  —  whither  ?  By- 
standers wag  their  heads,  and  say :  '  The  Brow  of  Brass, 
behold  how  it  has  got  all  unlacquered  ;  these  Pinchbeck 


THE  DIAMOND  NECKLACE.  139 

lips  can  lie  no  more  ! '  Eheu !  Ohoo  ! "  —  And  he  burst 
into  unstancliable  blubbering  of  tears  ;  and  sobbing  out 
the  moanfullest  broken  howl,  sank  down  in  swoon ;  to 
be  put  to  bed  by  De  Launay  and  others. 

Thus  spoke  (or  thus  might  have  spoken),  and  prophe-  5 
sied,  the  Arch-Quack  Cagliostro  :  and  truly  much  better 
than  he  ever  else  did  :  for  not  a  jot  or  tittle  of  it  (save 
only  that  of  our  promised  Interview  with  Nestor  de 
Laraotte,  which  looks  unlikelier  than  ever,  for  we  have 
not  heard  of  him,  dead  or  living,  since  1826)  —  but  has  10 
turned  out  to  be  literally  true.  As  indeed  in  all  this 
History,  one  jot  or  tittle  of  untruth,  that  we  could  ren- 
der true,  is  perhaps  not  discoverable ;  much  as  the  dis- 
trustful reader  may  have  disbelieved. 

Here,  then,  our  little  labor  ends.  The  Necklace  was,  15 
and  is  no  more :  the  stones  of  it  again  "  circulate 
in  Commerce,"  some  of  them  perhaps  in  Bundle's  at 
this  hour  ;  and  may  give  rise  to  what  other  Histories  we 
know  not.  The  Conquerors  of  it,  every  one  that 
trafficked  in  it,  have  they  not  all  had  their  due,  which  20 
was  Death  ? 

This  little  Business,  like  a  little  cloud,  bodied  itself 
forth  in  skies  clear  to  the  unobservant :  but  with  such 
hues  of  deep-tinted  villany,  dissoluteness  and  general 
delirium  as,  to  the  observant,  betokened  it  electric ;  and  25 
wise  men,  a  Goethe  for  example,  boded  Earthquakes. 
Has  not  the  Earthquake  come  ? 


NOTES. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Page  37,  Line  7.  Improved-drops.  New  contrivances  for  mak- 
ing easy  the  execution  of  criminals  at  Newgate  prison,  the  chief  crim- 
inal prison  of  London. 

P.  37, 1. 9.  liife.  Note  the  use  of  capital  initial  letters  throughout 
this  work.    What  is  your  opinion  of  such  use  ? 

P.  37,  1. 10.  Heyday.  Consult  the  dictionary  for  the  etymology 
of  this  word. 

P.  38, 1.  1.  PitifuUest.  Carlyle  rides  ruthlessly  over  the  conven- 
tionalities of  grammar,  and  is  always  ready  to  sacrifice  euphony  to 
force.    Note  other  instances  of  this  formation  of  the  superlative. 

P.  38, 1.  9.  Pattern-Figure.  Carlyle  is  fond  of  applying  such 
descriptive  metaphors  and  figurative  nicknames  to  persons,  objects, 
or  events,  and  having  found  a  good  one,  repeats  it  again  and  again. 
Thus,  he  speaks  of  Gigmanity  ;  constantly  calls  Rohan  a  Mud-vol- 
cano ;  and  names  Madame  Lamotte  Creative  Dramaturgist. 

P.  38, 1.  15.  Gigman.  Carlyle's  footnote  here  is :  "I  always 
considered  him  a  respectable  man.  —  What  do  you  mean  by  respect- 
able?   He  kept  a  Gig."  —  ThiirteU's  Trial. 

P.  39, 1.  2.    There  is  the  rub.    Compare  Hamlet,  Act  III.,  scene 

I-,- 

"  To  die,  —  to  sleep :  — 
To  sleep!  percliance  to  dream;  ay,  there's  the  rub." 

P.  39, 1. 16.    Constitutional  History,  Philosophy  of  History, 

etc.  All  terms  frequently  employed  at  that  time  and  now  to  describ- 
the  method  of  writing  history  in  which  special  attention  is  given  not 
so  much  to  the  facts  as  to  the  moral  and  political  lessons  taught,  or 
the  constitutional  development  shown  by  the  facts.  Dionysus  of 
Halicamassus  s.ays,  "  History  is  philosophy  teaching  by  examples." 

141 


142  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

P.  40, 1.6.  Politico-metaphysical  abstraction.  The  author's 
and  others'  speculations  as  to  the  political  or  moral  cause,  meaning, 
and  effects  of  an  event  in  history,  rather  than  the  actual  historical 
facts.  Carlyle  scorned  guesses,  cant,  and  sham  philosophy.  His  de- 
mand was  for  Facts,  Facts ;  the  truth,  not  speculations  upon  the  truth. 

P.  40, 1.  26.  Life- writing.  The  etymological  translation  of  "  bi- 
ography," which  is  derived,  through  the  Greek  Ptoypacpia,  from  /Si'oj 
(life)  and  yp6(piiv  (to  write). 

P.  40, 1.  28.  Bos  well,  James  (1740-1795),  the  biographer  of  Samuel 
Johnson.  His  biography,  the  most  famous  in  the  English  language, 
is  noted  for  the  minutely  truthful  picture  it  gives  of  Dr.  Johnson. 
Boswell  did  not  spare  himself  for  the  sake  of  "  respectability,"  and 
his  position  as  reverential  reporter  of  all  Johnson's  sayings  and  do- 
ings sometimes  makes  him  appear  "  ridiculous."  He  has,  however, 
written  a  true,  not  a  sham,  life  of  the  great  English  man  of  letters. 

P.  41, 1.  11.  Charlemagne.  The  Emperor  Charlemagne  (742-814) 
and  his  paladin,  Roland,  were  the  constant  themes  of  song,  story,  and 
romance  during  the  Middle  Ages.  This  great  emperor  did  not  feel 
himself  above  the  petty  details  of  caring  for  his  estate.  He  person- 
ally superintended  the  planting  of  trees  and  flowers  in  his  gardens, 
and  gave  directions  as  to  what  meat  and  vegetables  should  be  kept  in 
store,  and  how  the  poultry  and  stock  should  be  fed.  There  is  a  pretty 
legend  that  Eginhard,  the  secretary  of  Charlemagne,  made  love  to 
Emma,  the  emperor's  daughter,  and  used  frequently  to  visit  her 
secretly  in  the  evening.  One  evening  snow  fell  while  Eginhard  was 
with  Emma.  Fearing  that  the  tracks  of  Eginhard's  feet  in  the 
snow,  as  he  returned,  would  disclose  their  intimacy,  Emma  carried 
her  lover  back  on  her  shoulders,  knowing  that  a  woman's  footprints 
would  excite  no  curiosity.  Charlemagne,  however,  observed  the  pro- 
ceedings from  a  window,  and  learning  the  story  of  their  love,  blessed 
them  and  consented  to  their  marriage. 

In  782,  in  revenge  for  a  revolt  of  the  Saxons  and  the  consequent 
defeat  and  slaughter  of  several  of  his  captains  on  the  banks  of  the 
river  "Weser,  Charlemagne  caused  4,500  of  the  Saxons  to  be  beheaded 
at  a  place  called  Werden,  on  the  river  AUer.  The  story  of  Roland 
and  how  he  died  in  the  pass  of  Roncesvalles  should  be  familiar  to  all. 

P.  41, 1.  28.  Turpins  and  Ariostos.  Turpin  is  the  name  given 
to  a  fictitious  archbishop  of  Rheims  in  the  time  of  Charlemagne,  to 


NOTES.  143 

whom  was  ascribed  the  authorship  of  certain  Latin  prose  narratives 
describing  Charlemagne's  expedition  to  Spain  and  the  exploits  of 
Roland.  The  manuscript  was  really  written  in  the  11th  or  12th  cen- 
tury. Ludovicus  Ariosto  (1474-1533),  a  famous  Italian  poet,  wrote  the 
great  romantic  epic  poem  "  Orlando  Furioso,"  the  hero  of  which,  Or- 
lando, is  identical  with  Roland. 

P.  42, 1.  14.  Bright-rollinjs^,  etc  Such  compounds  are  very  com- 
mon in  the  German  language,  of  which  Carlyle  was  an  enthusiastic 
student.  The  influence  of  German  literature  on  his  thought  and  style 
is  very  apparent. 

P.  42, 1.  25.  Real-Phantasmagory.  Phantasmagory,  the  optical 
effect  produced  by  the  magic  lantern.  The  thought  here  is,  that  the 
different  forms  of  being  and  the  changes  of  man's  life  appear  before 
the  thoughtful  observer  as  the  varied  images  cast  by  the  magic  lan- 
tern. The  page  or  more  beginning  "  He  has  witnessed  overhead  " 
is  a  fine  example  of  Carlyle's  power  of  poetical  word-painting  when 
he  rises  to  one  of  his  rapt  moods. 

P.  43,  1.  24.    The  Flame-image.    What  is  meant  by  this  term  ? 

P.  43,  1.  30.  Jean  Paul.  Johann  Paul  Friederich  Richter  (1763- 
1825),  German  author  and  humorist,  commonly  called  Jean  Paul. 
His  style  is  like  Carlyle's  in  many  ways,  and  Carlyle  is  thought  to 
owe  much  of  his  peculiar  grotesqueness  and  figurativeness  of  style 
to  Richter.  At  any  rate,  he  read  and  studied  Richter,  and  contrib- 
uted essays  upon  his  life  and  writings  to  the  Edinburgh  Eevieio  (1827) 
and  to  the  Foreign  Review  (1830). 

P.  44,  1.  8.  Environment.  Newly  coined.  The  coining  of  new 
words  is  a  fault  of  Carlyle's  that  yoimg  writers  should  avoid.  John 
Sterling  said,  refemng  to  Carlyle's  writings:  "  A  good  deal  of  the 
language  is  positively  barbarous.  'Environment,'  'vestural,'  'ster- 
torous,' '  visualized,'  '  complected,'  and  others  I  think  to  be  found  in 
the  first  thirty  pages  are  words,  so  far  as  I  know,  without  any  author- 
ity ;  some  of  them  contrary  to  analogy  ;  and  none  repaying  by  their 
value  the  disadvantage  of  novelty."  Some  of  Carlyle's  new  words, 
however,  have  enriched  our  language.  Environment,  for  example,  is 
a  very  useful  word. 

P.  45,  1.  24.  Geography,  etc.  "What  is  the  distinction  between 
geography  and  topography,  and  why  make  the  distinction  "  in  this 
case  "  ? 


144  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


CHAPTER  II. 

P.  46,  1.  6.  He  has  long  since  exchanged  his  gnttnral,  etc. 
Notice  the  use  of  the  historical  present.  Carlyle  habitually  uses  it 
in  preference  to  the  past  tense,  as  will  be  observed  througliout  this 
work.  Guttural  is  characteristic  of  the  German,  as  nasal  of  the 
French.  Boelimer  had  been  court  jeweller  to  the  King  of  Saxony 
before  conaing  to  Paris. 

P.  46, 1.  20.  Rnelle.  The  space  about  the  bed  in  the  bed-chamber 
or  alcove,  where  great  personages  often  received  guests  and  held 
receptions  in  the  morning  before  arising.  Hence,  a  private  place, 
"  an  inner  circle."  It  is  derived  from  the  French  rue,  and  means, 
literally,  a  little,  or  narrow,  street. 

P.  47, 1.  9.    Joaillier-Bijoutier  de  la  Reine.    Queen's  jeweller. 

P.  47, 1. 14.  Among  the  Seventies  of  last  Century.  Carlyle's 
footnote:  Except  that  Madame  Campan  (M^moires,  tome  ii.)  says  the 
Necklace  "  was  intended  for  Du  Barry,"  one  cannot  discover,  within 
many  years,  the  date  of  its  manufacture.  Du  Barry  went  "  into  half 
pay  "  on  the  10th  of  May,  1774,  —  the  day  when  her  king  died. 

P.  47,  1.  23.  Did  worthy  Bassange.  Interrogation  is  often  em- 
ployed by  Carlyle.  It  servos  to  excite  interest  in  what  is  to  come  and 
gives  variety  of  expression. 

P.  48, 1.  21.  Dencalion  Deluges,  etc.  Deucalion  was  the  classi- 
cal Noah,  and  in  the  Greek  mytliology  he  and  his  wife  PyiTlia  were 
the  only  siirvivors  of  the  great  flood.  James  Hutton  (172G-1797), 
Scotch  geologist,  was  the  author  of  the  Plutonian  theory  in  geology ; 
namely,  that  the  successive  rocks  of  the  earth's  crust  were  formed  by 
fusion;  that  is,  through  tlie  agency  of  fire  —  hence,  "explosions." 
Abraham  Gottlieb  Werner  (1750-1817),  German  geologist,  was  the 
author  of  the  Neptunian  theory,  that  primitive  and  other  rocks  were 
formed  by  precipitation  from  voter  —  hence,  "  submersions." 

P.  49,  1.  2.  Charles  the  Rash.  Commonly  called  Charles  the 
Bold,  duke  of  Burgundy.  In  the  reign  of  Louis  XI.  of  France, 
tlie  restless  ambition  of  Charles  led  him  to  seek  independence  from  the 
French  kingdom.  One  after  another  his  daring  plans  were  defeated, 
and  he  was  finally  slain  at  Nancy  in  1477.  After  the  battle  his  body 
was  found,  frozen  in  a  pool  by  the  roadside. 


NOTES.  145 

P.  60, 1.  10.  Defender  of  the  Faith.  Title  of  the  English  sover- 
eign. It  was  first  given  by  tlie  Pope  to  Henry  VIII.  for  his  defence 
of  the  church  against  Lutlier. 

P.  50,  1. 15.  A  Heroism,  etc.  Is  the  use  of  the  article  before 
these  abstract  nouns  allowable  ? 

P.  50,  1.  17.  Some  five  or  six  Books.  Is  this  statement  true? 
Name  the  five  or  six  greatest  books  of  tlie  world,  in  your  opinion. 

P.  50, 1.  21.  Keep  it  unstolen  for  fourteen  years.  The  term  of 
copyright  in  England  formerly  was  fourteen  years.  Since  1842  the 
copyright  term  has  been  the  life  of  the  author  and  seven  years  after. 
In  no  case,  however,  is  it  to  be  less  than  forty-two  years,  even  though 
the  author  die  before  the  expiration  of  that  term  from  the  date  of 
copyright. 

P.  50, 1.  26.  Printseller,  of  the  Rue  d'Enfer.  Carlyle's  foot- 
note gives  some  of  the  authorities  he  consulted  in  writing  the  "  Dia- 
mond Necklace,"  as  follows:  — 

Frontispiece  of  the  "  Affaire  du  Collier,  Paris,  1785 ;  "  wheref rem 
Georgel's  Editor  has  copied  it.  This  "  Affaire  du  Collier,  Paris,  1785," 
is  not  properly  a  Book ;  but  a  bound  Collection  of  such  Law-Papers 
(M^moires  pour,  etc.)  as  were  printed  and  emitted  by  the  various  par- 
ties in  that  famed  "  Necklace  Trial."  These  Law-Papers,  bound  into 
Two  Volumes  quarto ;  with  Portraits,  such  as  the  Printshops  yielded 
them  at  the  time  ;  likewise  with  patches  of  Ms.,  containing  Notes, 
Pasquinade-songs,  and  the  like,  of  the  most  unspeakable  character 
occasionally,  —  constitute  this  "  Affaire  du  Collier;  "  which  the  Paris 
Dealers  in  Old  Books  can  still  procure  there.  It  is  one  of  the  largest 
collections  of  Falsehoods  that  exists  in  print;  and,  unfortunately, 
still,  after  all  the  narrating  and  history  there  has  been  on  the  subject, 
forms  our  chief  means  of  getting  at  the  truth  of  that  Transaction. 
The  First  Volume  contains  some  Twenty-one  Memoires  pour  :  not,  of 
course,  Historical  statements  of  truth;  but  Culprits'  and  Lawyei-s' 
statements  of  what  they  wished  to  be  believed ;  each  party  lying  ac- 
cording to  his  ability  to  lie.  To  reach  the  truth,  or  even  any  honest 
guess  at  the  truth,  the  immensities  of  rubbish  must  be  sifted,  con- 
trasted, rejected:  what  grain  of  historical  evidence  may  lie  at  the 
bottom  is  then  attainable.  Thus,  as  this  Transaction  of  the  Diamond 
Necklace  has  been  called  the  "Largest  Lie  of  the  Eighteenth  Cen- 
tury," so  it  comes  to  us  borne,  not  unfitly,  on  a  whole  illimitable  dim 
Chaos  of  Lies! 


146  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

Nay,  the  Second  Volume,  entitled  Suite  de  V Affaire  du  Collier,  is 
still  stranger.  It  relates  to  the  Intrigue  and  Trial  of  one  Bette  d'Eti- 
enville,  who  represents  himself  as  a  poor  lad  that  had  been  kidnapped, 
blindfolded,  introduced  to  beautiful  Ladies,  and  engaged  to  get  hus- 
bands for  them ;  as  setting  out  on  this  task,  and  gradually,  getting 
quite  bewitched  and  bewildered;  —  most  indubitably,  going  on  to 
bewitch  and  bewilder  other  people  on  all  hands  of  him :  the  whole  in 
consequence  of  this  "  Necklace  Trial,"  and  the  noise  it  was  making! 
Very  curious.  The  Lawyers  did  verily  busy  themselves  with  this 
affair  of  Bette's ;  there  are  scarecrow  Portraits  given,  that  stood  in  the 
Printshops,  and  no  man  can  know  whether  the  Originals  ever  so  much 
as  existed.  It  is  like  the  Dream  of  a  Dream.  The  human  mind 
stands  stupent;  ejaculates  the  wish  that  such  Gulf  of  Falsehood 
would  close  itself,  —  before  general  Delirium  supervene,  and  the 
Speech  of  Man  become  mere  incredible,  meaningless  jargon,  like  that 
of  choughs  and  daws.  Even  from  Bette,  however,  by  assiduous  sift- 
ing, one  gathers  a  particle  of  truth  here  and  there. 

P.  51, 1.  19.    Espiegleries.    French  —  frolicsome  tricks. 


CHAPTER  III. 

P.  52, 1.  4.  The  American  War.  The  Frenclt  were  then  assist- 
ing the  American  Revolution. 

P.  52,  1.  12.  Savoir-faire.  Skill,  tact;  literally,  knowing  how  to 
do. 

P.  52, 1.  17.  Circalating  in  commerce.  The  expression  is  quoted 
from  the  "  Memoires  of  Marie  Antoinette,  by  Madame  Campan,  first 
lady  of  the  bedchamber  to  the  Queen." 

P.  52, 1.17.  Du  Barry,  Countess.  Notorious  and  powerful  mistress 
of  Louis  XV.  of  France.  At  the  death  of  Louis  XV.,  in  1774,  she  re- 
tired to  St.  Cyr,  two  and  one-half  miles  west  of  Versailles.  She  was 
executed  during  the  Reign  of  Terror. 

P.  53, 1. 1.  The  Goillotine-axe  is  forging.  Compare  with  the 
opening  chapter  of  Dickens's  "  Tale  of  Two  Cities."  Tailles  were  a 
kind  of  feudal  tax  paid  by  the  subject  to  the  king  or  overlord,  in 
France ;  especially,  a  tax  upon  the  profits  of  the  farmer,  estimated  by 
the  amount  of  stock  on  hand. 


NOTES.  147 

P.  53, 1. 11.  Pombal,  Marquis  de.  An  eminent  Portuguese  states- 
man, minister  of  foreign  affairs  1G99-1782.  As  such  he  held  in  check 
the  nobility  and  removed  many  abuses. 

P.  53, 1.  16.  Marie  Antoinette.  Queen  of  France  1774-1792 
and  wife  of  Louis  XVI.  Slie  was  born  at  Vienna,  in  the  imperial 
castle  of  Schonbrunn,  Nov.  2,  1755,  her  father  being  the  Em- 
peror Francis  I.  of  Germany,  and  her  mother  the  famous  Maria 
Theresa.  At  the  age  of  fourteen  she  was  betrothed  to  the  Dauphin  of 
France.  The  next  year,  in  April,  the  prospective  bride  set  out  from 
Vienna  and  was  received  at  Strasburg  with  great  acclamation  by  the 
French  people,  and  with  elaborate  ceremony  by  Prince  Louis  de  Ko- 
han,  acting  as  the  royal  deputy.  The  marriage  ceremony  was  per- 
formed at  Versailles,  May  16,  1770,  Marie  Antoinette  being  not  yet 
fifteen  years  of  age.  She  became  queen  in  May,  1774,  at  the  accession 
of  her  husband  to  the  throne  as  Louis  XVI.  She  was  of  a  bright, 
vivacious,  simple,  and  frank  nature ;  was  fond  of  pleasure  and  fine 
dress ;  but  despised  court  etiquette.  Not  intending  to  do  wrong  by 
her  frivolities,  she  yet  had  a  fatal  misconception  of  the  condition  of 
France  and  of  the  misery  that  existed  there.  Indifferent  to  the  opin- 
ions of  the  court  and  of  the  people,  she  persisted  in  doing  as  she 
pleased ;  thus  offending  the  court  by  her  contempt  of  etiquette  and 
disregard  for  their  feelings,  and  provoking  the  people  by  her  friend- 
ship for  unworthy  favorites  and  by  making  no  attempt  to  court  popu- 
larity. Her  enemies  circulated  stories  about  her  intrigues,  probably 
all  of  them  false,  and  she  was  undoubtedly  "  more  sinned  against 
than  sinning."  The  affair  of  the  Diamond  Necklace,  in  which  she 
was  entirely  innocent,  blasted  her  good  name  forever.  Her  influence 
over  the  king  in  state  matters  was  unfortunate.  She  took  to  med- 
dling in  public  affairs,  and  opposed  most  of  the  measures  of  reform  in 
the  days  preceding  the  Revolution.  When  the  Revolution  came,  she 
was  the  object  of  passionate  hatred  on  the  part  of  the  people.  She 
shared  the  varying  fortunes  of  her  husband  during  those  awful  days, 
and  after  their  imprisonment  in  the  Temple,  in  1792,  and  after  the 
execution  of  the  king,  her  conduct  was  most  heroic.  When  the 
Reign  of  Terror  was  at  its  height,  to  sate  the  public  appetite  for  blood, 
she  was  dragged  before  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal  and  condemned 
to  death.  The  next  day,  Oct.  16, 1793,  surroimded  by  a  howling  and 
jeering  mob,  the  once  beautiful  queen  —  her  hair  now  turned  white 


148  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

by  the  terrors  through  which  she  had  passed — was  dragged  in  a 
tumbrel  to  the  guillotine,  and  beheaded. 

P.  53,  1.  22.  Seventy-fours.  Naval  vessels  carrying  seventy-four 
guns;  needed  to  carry  on  the  war  with  England. 

P.  53, 1.  22.  Laudatur  et  alget.  It  is  praised  and  yet  is  neglected ; 
literally,  and  yet  freezes,  grows  cold,  is  not  cherished. 

P.  53,  1.  24.  The  Two  Sicilies.  Carlyle's  note:  "  See  Memoires 
de  Campan,  II.,  1-26."  Sicily  and  Naples,  under  one  king  until  1870, 
were  called  the  Two  Sicilies. 

P.  53,  1.  28.  Bankruptcy.  The  immediate  occasion,  and  one  of 
the  causes,  of  the  French  Revolution  was  the  utter  bankruptcy  of  the 
national  treasury.  For  an  account  of  this  see  Carlyle's  "  French 
Revolution,"  vol.  I.,  Book  II. 

P.  54,  1.  10.  Irreducible  case  of  Cardan.  Jerome  Cardan  was 
a  noted  mathematician  of  the  sixteenth  century.  He  made  many 
discoveries  in  algebra  and  formulated  rules  for  the  resolution  of  cubic 
equations.  An  Italian  algebraist  proposed  a  question  which  Cardan 
could  not  solve  by  his  rules.  Bombelli,  an  Italian  mathematician  of 
the  same  period,  published  a  work  in  which  he  explained  the  nature 
of  this  irreducible  case  of  Cardan. 


CHAPTER  rV, 

P.  55, 1.  13.  Royal  Society  of  London.  An  association  of  men  of 
learning  for  the  j)roraotion  of  scientific  study  and  the  discussion  of 
scientific  subjects.    It  was  founded  as  early  as  1660. 

P.  55,  1.  14.  Corsican  Letitia.  Tlie  name  of  Napoleon  Bona- 
parte's mother,  before  she  married  Charles  Bonaparte,  was  Letitia 
Ramolino. 

P.  55, 1. 16.  Federations  of  the  Champ  de  Mars,  etc.  The  Fed- 
eration of  the  Champ  de  Mars,  or  Fete  of  the  Federation,  was  held 
July  14, 1790,  the  first  anniversary  of  the  fall  of  the  Bastille.  It  was 
an  elaborate  ceremony  of  peace  and  good  will.  All  orders  took  part 
in  it,  the  king  swore  to  observe  and  preserve  the  constitution,  and  it 
was  the  general  impression  that  a  new  era  of  peace  and  reconciliation 
had  been  ushered  in.  See  Carlyle's  "  French  Revolution,"  vol.  I. 
Book  I.  chapter  xii.    September  Massacres.    In  September,  1792, 


NOTES.  149 

the  news  of  the  advance  of  the  allied  forces  of  Austria  and  Prussia 
upon  the  Revolutionists  led  to  the  "  Massacres  of  September." 
Bands  of  assassins  entered  the  prisons  of  Paris,  Versailles,  Lyons, 
and  other  cities,  and  murdered  the  prisoners  of  the  Revolution  in 
cold  blood.  About  three  thousand  were  killed.  Bakers'  Custom- 
ers en  qaene«  Bakers'  customers  in  line,  awaiting  their  turn  to 
buy  bread.  During  the  early  days  of  the  Revolution  the  scarcity  of 
bread  and  the  rush  for  it  when  the  people  obtained  a  little  money 
made  it  necessary  for  the  crowds  at  the  bakers'  shops  to  form  in  line, 
each  awaiting  his  turn  to  buy.  Carlyle  describes  this  in  "  French 
Revolution,"  I.,  VI.,  chapter  iv.  Danton,  Desmoulins,  etc.  All 
leaders  in  the  French  Revolution.  Robespierre's  apparent  conscien- 
tiousness and  reluctance  to  adopt  the  death  penalty,  when  contrasted 
with  the  horrible  scenes  of  the  Reign  of  Terror,  for  which  he  is  gen- 
erally held  accountable,  have  made  him,  whether  justly  or  not, 
appear  hypocritical.  Hence  Carlyle  likens  him  to  Tartuffe,  a  cele- 
brated hypocritical  pretender  to  religion,  the  hero  of  Moliere's  com- 
edy of  the  same  name.    Marat  was  at  one  time  a  drug  clerk. 

P.  56, 1.  4.  Coadjutor,  etc.  A  coadjutor  was  an  assistant  to  a 
bishop  ;  a  Grand  Almoner,  one  of  the  most  powerful  officers  of  the 
court  and  the  kingdom,  by  virtue  of  his  office  commander  of  all  the 
orders  and  director  of  the  great  hospital  for  the  blind.  A  coramenda- 
tor  was  one  who  held  a  living  in  commendam ;  that  is,  a  vacant 
living  held  usually  by  a  bishop  until  a  pastor  might  be  provided,  the 
revenues  meanwhile  to  be  collected  by  the  commendator. 

P.  66, 1.  14.  Siamese  Twins.  Eng  and  Chang,  two  boys  born  of 
Chinese  parents  in  Siam,  in  1825,  and  having  their  bodies  united  by 
a  band  of  flesh  stretching  from  breast  bone  to  breast  bone.  Both  died 
in  1874,  though  not  at  the  same  time. 

P.  56, 1.  16.  Rohan,  Louis  Rene  Edouard,  Cardinal  de  (1734-1803), 
the  hero  and  dupe  of  the  Necklace  case.  The  family  of  Rohan  traced 
its  origin  to  the  kings  of  Brittany  and  was  granted  the  rank  and  pre- 
cedence of  a  royal  princely  family  by  Louis  XIV.  Members  of  the 
family  had  been  archbishops  of  Strasburg  since  1704.  Prince  Louis 
was  made  coadjutor  to  his  uncle,  Constantino  Rohan-Rochefort,  in 
1760.  He  joined  the  party  opposed  to  the  Austrian  alliance.  In  1772 
he  went  to  Vienna  as  ambassador,  and  displeased  Maria  Theresa. 
He  was  recalled  in  1774.    However,  through  family  influence,  he 


150  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

was  appointed  Grand  Almoner  in  1777,  and  became  Abbot  of  St. 
Vaast  in  1778,  and  the  same  year  was  made  a  cardinal.  The  next 
year  he  succeeded  his  uncle  as  Archbishop  of  Strasburg,  with  an 
income  of  2,500,000  livres.  In  1780  he  met  Cagliostro  and  lodged  him 
in  his  palace.  After  the  Necklace  trial  he  was  deprived  of  his  office 
of  Grand  Almoner  and  banished  to  his  Abbey  of  Chaise-Dieu. 
Allowed  to  return  to  Strasburg,  in  1789  he  was  elected  to  the  States 
General,  but  in  1791,  refusing  to  take  the  oath  to  support  the  consti- 
tution, he  went  to  Germany,  where  he  lived  until  his  death  in 
1803. 

P.  56, 1.  24.  Northern  Immigrations.  The  barbarian  invasions  of 
Gaul  by  the  northern  German  races  in  the  early  centuries  of  the 
Christian  era. 

P.  57, 1.  5.  Cousin  Soubise  at  Rosbach.  The  family  of  Soubise 
was  related  to  that  of  Rohan.  Rosbach,  or  Rossbach,  was  a  small 
village  of  Prussian  Saxony,  where  in  1757  Frederick  the  Great  and 
22,000  Prussians  overwhelmingly  defeated  the  combined  French  and 
Imperial  army  under  the  Prince  of  Soubise,  an  incompetent  French 
general,  who  held  his  command  only  through  family  influence.  Car- 
lyle's footnote  reads:  "Here  is  the  Epigram  they  made  against  him 
on  occasion  of  Rosbach  —  in  that '  Despotism  tempered  by  Epigrams,* 
which  France  was  then  said  to  be : 

'  Soubise  dit,  la  lanterne  &  la  main, 
J'ai  beau  cliercher,  ofi  diable  est  men  Arm^e  ? 
Elle  ^tait  la  pourtaut  bier  matin : 
Me  ra-t-on  prise,  ou  I'aurais-je  6garee?  — 

Que  vois-je,  6  ciel!  que  mon  4me  est  raviel 
Prodige  heureux !  la  voil^,  la  voila!  — 
Ah,  ventrebleu!  qu'est-ce  done  que  cela? 
Je  me  trompals,  c'est  I'Arm^e  Ennemie ! ' 

Lacbetelle,  ii.  206." 


These  verses  may  be  translated  freely  as  follows;  Soubise,  lantern 
in  hand,  said,  "  I  have  sought  in  vain  —  where  the  devil  is  my  army  ? 
Yet  it  was  yonder  yesterday  morning ;  has  some  one  stolen  it  from 
me,  or  could  I  have  mislaid  it  ?    What  do  I  see,  oh  heaven,  rapture. 


NOTES.  151 

rapture!  Happy  portent !  There  it  is,  there  it  is!  Ah,  ventrebleu ! 
what's  that?    I  made  a  mistake,  it  is  the  enemy's  army." 

P.  57, 1. 23.  Louis  the  Well-beloved.  The  title  Bien-aimi 
(well-beloved)  was  given  to  Louis  XV.,  when  he  lay  very  ill  at  Metz 
in  1744.  It  was  bestowed  because  of  the  prayerful  anxiety  of  the 
people  for  his  recovery.  The  title  is  the  height  of  irony  in  view  of 
his  subsequent  outrageous  and  infamous  reign.  See  chapter  I.  of  the 
"  French  Revolution." 

P.  58, 1.  6.  Parc-aux-cerfs.  The  Deer  Park  —  a  name  applied 
in  jest  to  a  seraglio  established  by  Louis  XV.,  where  some  of  his  de- 
baucheries were  carried  on. 

P.  58, 1.  8.  En  toato  nika.  The  Greek  for  "  Tn  this  conquer." 
The  better  known  motto  is  the  Latin,  "  In  hoc  signo  vinces."  This 
was  the  inscription  that  Coustantine  was  said  to  have  seen  in  the 
heavens,  accompanied  by  the  sign  of  the  cross,  in  consequence  of 
which  appearance  he  embraced  Christianity. 

P.  58,  1.  13.  Macchiavellism,  Political  artifice  or  intrigue  em- 
ployed in  upholding  despotic  government ;  from  the  real  or  supposed 
principles  of  government  set  forth  by  Macchiavelli,  a  Florentine 
statesman  of  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries,  in  his  book  "  The 
Prince." 

P.  68, 1.20.  Back  stairs  diplomacy.  Private,  or  officially  unrec- 
ognized, influence  or  diplomacy.  Royal  palaces  had  two  stairways  — 
the  public,  or  state  stairway,  and  a  private  stairway.  Individuals 
having  secret  or  private  business,  by  having  influence  with  the  guard- 
ian of  the  back  stairs,  could  gain  access  to  royalty  through  that 
avenue. 

P.  58, 1.  26.    St.  Wast  d'Arras.    St.  Vaast. 

P.  59,  1.  8.    M.  de  Maurepas.    Louis  XVI. 's  first  prime  minister. 

P.  59, 1. 18.  The  poor  Tit,  The  European  cuckoo  does  not  build  a 
nest  of  its  own,  but  lays  its  eggs  in  the  nests  of  other  birds,  to  be 
hatched  by  the  bird  in  whose  nest  it  is  laid.  We  may  imagine  the 
surprise  of  some  small  bird,  such  as  the  tit,  at  hatching  a  stupid 
cuckoo  instead  of  a  child  of  its  own. 

P.  59, 1.  25.  King  Thierri.  Faindans  (do-nothings,  sluggards) 
was  a  name  applied  to  the  later  Merovingian  kings  of  the  Franks 
who  were  incompetent,  the  mayors  of  the  palace  being  the  virtual 
rulers.  Thierry  III.  was  the  first,  and  Childeric  III.,  deposed  730, 
the  last,  of  the  Fain4ans. 


162  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

P.  60, 1.  26.  Cardinal.  The  word  is  derived  from  the  Latin  cardo 
a  hinge.  "  The  clerics  of  the  supreme  chair  are  called  Cardinals,  as 
undoubtedly  adhering  more  nearly  to  the  hinge  by  which  all  things 
are  moved."     (Pope  Leo  IX.,  quoted  in  "  International  Dictionary.") 

P.  60, 1.  28.  Inhabitant  of  Saturn.  Fair  example  of  Carlyle's 
habit  of  exaggeration. 

P.  61, 1.  8.  Rou§ism.  State,  quality,  or  condition  of  being  a  rov^ ; 
that  is  a  person  addicted  to  sensual  pleasures,  a  rake.  Carlyle  never 
hesitates  to  coin  a  new  word,  or  make  a  new  compound,  if  it  seems 
useful. 

P.  61, 1. 18.  Poland  a-partitioniug.  The  first  partition  of  Po- 
land was  made  in  1772.  Catherine  the  Great  of  Russia,  Frederick 
the  Great  of  Prussia,  and  Maria  Theresa  each  seized  a  portion  of  the 
unfortunate  country,  and  after  two  later  partitionings  it  ceased  to 
exist  as  a  nation. 

P.  62, 1.  3.  Take  her  share.  Caxljl&'s  note>:  M^moires  deVAhM 
Georgel,  ii.  1-220.  Abbe  Georgel,  who  has  given,  in  the  place  referred 
to,  a  long  solemn  Narrative  of  the  Necklace  Business,  passes  for  the 
grand  authority  on  it:  but  neither  will  he,  strictly  taken  up,  abide 
scrutiny.  He  is  vague  aa  maybe;  writing  in  what  is  called  the 
"soaped-pig"  fashion:  yet  sometimes  you  do  catch  him,  and  hold 
him.  There  are  hardly  above  three  dates  in  his  whole  Narrative. 
He  mistakes  several  times ;  perhaps,  once  or  twice,  wilfully  misrepre- 
sents, a  little.  The  main  incident  of  the  business  is  misdated  by 
him,  almost  a  twelve-month.  It  is  to  be  remembered  that  the  poor 
Abbe  wrote  in  exile ;  and  with  cause  enough  for  prepossessions  and 
hostilities. 

P.  62,  1. 5.  minister  D'Aiguillou.  Then  prime  minister  of 
France. 

P.  62, 1.  7.    Souper.    Supper. 

P.  62, 1.  15.  The  Scarlet  Woman.  Referring  to  Rome,  which  is 
one  interpretation  of  "the  woman  "in  Revelation  xvii. 

P.  62,  1.  28.  Meanwhile  Louis  the  well-beloved.  Louis  XV. 
died  of  the  small-pox,  May  10,  1774.  Every  one  had  deserted  him 
save  a  few  serving-women.  As  a  signal  that  he  was  dead,  it  is  said, 
a  lighted  candle  was  placed  in  a  window  of  the  palace ;  whereupon 
the  courtiers  all  rushed,  "  making  a  noise  absolutely  like  thunder," 
to  hail  the  new  king,  Louis  XVI.    Le  roi  est  mort,  vive  le  roi ;  the 


NOTES.  153 

king  is  dead,  long  live  the  king.  See  the  "  French  Revolution," 
vol.  I.,  Book  I.,  chapter  iv. ;  also  chapter  xiii.  of  the  "Diamond 
Necklace."  Louis  was  buried  at  St.  Denis,  the  burial-place  of  the 
French  kings,  four  and  one  half  miles  north  of  Paris. 

P.  63,  1.4.  Ameude  honorable.  Public  apology  or  reparation 
for  improper  language  or  treatment :  a  rather  mild  term  to  signify 
repentance  before  God. 

P.  63,  1.  17.  Louis  XVI.  King  of  France,  1774-1792,  and  husband 
of  Marie  Antoinette.  He  was  born  Aug.  23,  1754,  and  became  king 
in  May,  1774,  succeeding  his  grandfather,  Louis  XV.  He  was  a 
man  of  temperate,  moral,  and  upright  character,  but  was  an  incom- 
petent king.  As  dauphin  he  had,  for  amusement,  learned  the  trade 
of  locksmith  from  a  mechanic  named  Gainiji,  or  Gamain,  and  it  would 
have  been  well  for  him  had  he  been  born  to  no  higher  lot.  Louis' 
intentions  were  good,  but  his  force  of  mind  and  will  were  weak,  and 
all  his  good  intentions  were  thwarted  by  the  court  and  the  nobility. 
The  troubled  times  into  which  he  was  born  demanded  a  king  of  fore- 
sight and  determination,  both  of  which  he  lacked.  As  a  result, 
though  the  people  at  first  loved  him  and  long  wished  him  no  ill,  be- 
lieving him  to  be  misled  by  his  advisers,  yet  in  the  stormy  days  of 
the  Revolution  sentiment  changed.  Louis  was  deposed  September, 
1792,  and  after  a  farcical  trial,  in  which  he  bore  himself  with  much 
fortitude,  he  met  death  by  the  guillotine,  Jan.  21,  1793. 

P.  63,  1.  22.  Heaven  and  earth.  Carlyle  frequently  uses  excla- 
mations to  add  force  and  vivacity  to  his  style. 

P.  64,  1.  2.  Velocity  increasing.  This  is  the  law  of  falling 
bodies,  for  an  explanation  of  which  see  any  text-book  on  Physics. 

P.  64,  1. 9.  Comparable  to  that  of  Satan.  See  Milton's  descrip- 
tion of  Satan's  fall  in  "Paradise  Lost,"  Book  I.,  lines  44-53:  — 

"  Him  the  Almighty  power 
Hurl'd  headlong  flaming  from  th'  ethereal  sky, 
With  hideous  ruin  and  combustion,  down 
To  bottomless  perdition,  there  to  dwell 
In  adamantine  chains  and  penal  fire, 
Who  durst  defy  the  Omnipotent  to  arms,"  etc. 

P.  64,  ).  11.  Choiseul,  Wolsey,  Racine.  Consult  biographical 
dictionary  or  encyclopsedia. 


154  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

P.  65, 1.  3.  Friar  Bacon's  head.  Roger  Bacon  Was  a  famous 
monk,  philosopher,  and  scientist  of  the  thirteenth  century.  He  is 
said  to  have  made  a  brazen  head  which  answered  questions.  Such 
heads  were  made  to  answer  inquiries  by  the  trick  of  having  an  assist- 
ant concealed,  who  talked  through  the  long  flexible  gullet  of  a 
crane. 
P.  65, 1. 10.    Barning  marl. 

His  [Satan's]  spear  .  .  . 
He  walked  with  to  support  uneasy  steps 
Over  the  burning  marl. 

Paradise  Lost,  Book  I.,  lines  2«2-296. 

P.  65,  1.  11.  De  Marsan,  Richeliea,  etc.  Noble  families  that 
still  enjoyed  the  favor  of  the  court,  though  he  was  cast  out. 

P.  65,  1.  24.    Red  stockings.    Part  of  his  official  dress  as  cardinal. 

P.  65,  1.  25.  Garden  of  Trianon.  The  Grand  and  Petit  Tria^ 
nons  were  beautiful  villas,  erected  by  Louis  XIV.  and  Louis  XV., 
respectively.  The  Petit  (Little)  Trianon  had  a  fine  garden,  with  an 
artificial  lake,  magnificent  trees,  a  celebrated  Hornbeam  Arbor,  and 
water-works  designed  by  Lenotre,  the  famous  landscape  gardener  of 
the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.  The  Little  Trianon  had  been  given  to 
Marie  Antoinette  by  her  husband,  and  was  a  favorite  resort  of  hers. 

P.  65, 1.  28.  King's-evil.  Scrofula  was  so  called  from  the  belief 
that  it  could  be  cured  by  the  royal  touch.  Of  course  the  term  is 
used  figuratively  here. 

P.  65,  1.29.  Campan.  Carlyle's  footnote:  Madame  Campan,  in 
her  Narrative,  and  indeed,  in  her  M^moires  generally,  does  not  seem 
to  intend  falsehood :  this,  in  the  Business  of  the  Necklace,  is  saying 
a  great  deal.  She  rather,  perhaps,  intends  the  producing  of  an  im- 
pression ;  which  may  have  appeared  to  herself  to  be  the  right  one. 
But,  at  all  events,  she  has,  here  or  elsewhere,  no  notion  of  historical 
rigor,  she  gives  hardly  any  date,  or  the  like ;  will  tell  the  same  thing, 
in  different  places,  different  ways,  etc.  There  is  a  tradition  that 
Louis  XVIII.  revised  her  M^moires  before  publication.  She  requires 
to  be  read  with  scepticism  everywhere,  but  yields  something  in  that 
way. 

P.  66, 1.  2.  Pillar  of  salt.  Allusion  to  Lot's  wife  ;  see  Genesis 
ziz. 

P.  66, 1.  5.    Saverne.    A  small  town  about  300  miles  east  of  Paris 


NOTES.  155 

and  14  miles  from  Strasburg ;  noted  for  a  fine  palace,  in  which  Rohan 
lived  at  that  time. 

P.  66, 1.  6.    Hope  deferred,  etc.    Proverbs  xii.,  13. 

P.  66,  1.  12.  To  appease  the  Jews.  Of  whom,  probably,  he  had 
borrowed  money  without  the  means  of  repayment. 

P.  66,  1.  22.  Cagliostro,  Count  Alessandro  di,  "the  arch-quack 
of  the  eighteenth  centui-y,"  was  born  at  Palermo,  of  humble  parentage, 
in  1743.  His  real  name  was  Giuseppe  (Joseph)  Balsamo.  He  seems 
to  have  led  a  wild  and  abandoned  life  as  a  youth.  After  travelling  in 
Egypt  and  the  East,  returning  to  Italy,  he  married  a  pretty  young 
woman  of  Venice,  and  the  two  started  out  on  a  career  of  fraud  and 
knavery.  Assuming  the  title  of  Count  Cagliostro,  he  travelled  through 
Europe  as  physician,  astrologer,  alchemist,  magician,  philosopher, 
and  exponent  of  "  Egyptian  Masonry,"  the  secrets  of  which  he  pre- 
tended to  have  discovered  in  the  East.  He  also  did  a  thriving  busi- 
ness in  the  "  elixir  of  immortal  youth."  Not  only  the  lower,  but  the 
higher  classes  were  duped  by  him,  and  in  spite  of  several  exposures 
he  continued  to  prosper.  He  went  to  Strasburg  in  1780,  then  to  Eng- 
land, and  back  to  Paris  in  1785,  where  he  figured  in  the  Necklace  case. 
Thrown  into  the  Bastille,  but  soon  released,  he  again  started  out  on 
his  knavish  travels.  But  his  popularity  was  on  the  wane,  and  upon 
his  visiting  Rome,  he  was  tried  and  condemned  to  death  by  the  In- 
quisition for  practising  Egyptian  Masonry,  His  sentence  was  com- 
muted to  life  imprisonment,  and  he  was  lodged  in  the  fortress  of  San 
Leon,  or  St.  Leo,  where  he  died  in  1795. 

P.  66, 1.  24.  Elective  affinity.  A  scientific  term  signifying  chem- 
ical attraction.  Elementary  substances  by  elective  affinity  are  at- 
tracted to  each  other  and  unite  to  form  chemical  compounds. 

P.  67,  1.12.  Fripiers.  Literally,  second-hand  dealers  in  a  small  way. 
The  term  is  applied  in  an  uncomplimentary  sense  to  those  who  busy 
themselves  in  seeking  advancement  by  petty  and  questionable  means. 

P.  67, 1.  19.  Diderot,  Denis  (1713-84),  celebrated  French  philo- 
sophical writer,  man  of  letters,  and  encyclopnedist.  He  was  joint 
editor  with  D'Alembert  of  the  great  French  Encyclopedie,vf\i\ch.  had 
Voltaire  and  Rousseau  as  contributors,  and  exerted  a  great  influence 
on  French  thought.    Carlyle  wrote  an  essay  on  Diderot. 

P.  68,  1.  4.  The  Chamois-hunter.  During  the  close  season  the 
killing  of  chamois  was  punished  by  imprisonment  in  the  quicksilver 


156  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

mines.    As  is  well  known,  the  effect  of  quicksilver,  or  mercury,  upon 
the  system  is  to  cause  salivation. 

P.  68, 1.  8.  With  a  wofal  ballad.  From  the  "  seven  ages  of 
man,"  Shakspeare's  "As  You  Like  It,"  Act  II.,  scene  vii., — 

"  And  then  the  lover. 
Sighing  like  furnace,  with  a  woeful  ballad 
Made  to  his  mistress'  eyebrow." 

P.  68,  1.  9.  Werter-wise,  like  Werther,  the  hero  of  Goethe's  ro- 
mance "  The  Sorrows  of  Werther."  Falling  in  love  with  Lotte,  his 
friend's  wife,  and  not  being  able  to  conquer  his  passion,  he  took  his 
own  life. 

P.  68, 1.  23.  The  old  nine  kingdoms  were  England,  France, 
Scotland,  Castile,  Aragon,  Navarre,  Sweden,  Denmark,  Hungary. 

CHAPTER  V. 

P.  70,  1.  9.    Nodus.    The  knot,  intrigue,  or  plot  of  a  piece. 

P.  70,  1.  17.  Henri  Second.  Henry  II.  was  a  dissolute  king  of 
France,  of  the  house  of  Valois.  He  was  accidentally  wounded  in  a 
tournament,  and  died  from  the  effects  of  the  wound,  in  1559. 

P.  70, 1.  20.    In  vice.    In  the  place  of,  as  the  representative  of. 

P.  71, 1.  19.  Out  into  the  highways  to  beg.  Carlyle'snote:  Vie 
de  Jeanne  Comtesse  de  Lamotte  (by  Herself)  vol.  I. 

P.  71,  1.  30.  Suspicious  presents.  Carlyle's  note:  He  was  of 
Hebrew  descent:  grandson  of  the  renowned  Jew  Bernard,  whom 
Louis  XV.,  and  even  Louis  XIV.,  used  to  "walk  with  in  the  Royal 
Garden,"  when  they  wanted  him  to  lend  them  money.  See  Souve- 
nirs du  Due  de  Levis  ;  M^moires  de  Duclos,  etc. 

P.  72, 1.  20.  IJeaves  of  unknown  number.  Carlyle's  note: 
Four  ifdmoires  pour hj her,  in  this  Affaire  du  Collier;  like  " Lawyers' 
tongues  turned  inside  out !  "  Afterwards  One  Volume,  Mimoires 
Justificatifs  de  la  Comiesse  de,  etc  (London,  1788) ;  with  Appendix  of 
"  Documents  "  so-called.  This  has  also  been  translated  into  a  kind  of 
English.  Then  Two  Volumes,  as  quot«d  above:  Vie  de  Jeanne  de, 
etc.;  printed  in  London, — byway  of  extorting  money /rom  Paris. 
This  latter  Lying  Autobiography  of  Lamotte  was  bought-up  by 
French  persons  in  authority.  It  was  tlie  burning  of  this  Editio  Prin- 
ceps  in  the  Sevres  Potteries,  on  the  30th  of  May  1792,  which  raised 


NOTES.  157 

such  a  smoke,  that  the  Legislative  Assembly  took  alarm ;  and  had  an 
investigation  about  it,  and  considerable  examining  of  Potters,  etc., 
till  the  truth  came  out.  Copies  of  the  Book  were  speedily  reprinted 
after  the  Tenth  of  August.  It  is  in  English  too ;  and,  except  in  the 
Necklace  part,  is  not  so  entirely  distracted  as  the  former. 

P.  73,  1.  29.  Gigmauity  disgigged.  Both  words  coined  by  Car- 
lyle.  Gigmanity  is  a  favorite  word  with  him,  and  means  that  portion 
of  humanity  who  slavishly  and  snobbishly  worship  this  world's  goods 
as  the  only  evidence  of  respectability  and  propriety.  "  Disgigged," 
of  course,  means  "  deprived  of  its  gig;"  that  is,  of  its  much-wor- 
shipped evidences  of  respectability. 

P.  74, 1.  1.  Varium  et  semper  mutabile.  See  the  Latin  prov- 
erbs, etc.,  in  the  appendix  of  any  good  dictionary. 

P.  74, 1.  4.  Rackets  and  sallens.  A  rather  "free  and  easy" 
use  of  words,  of  which,  however,  Carlyle  was  entirely  capable. 

P.  74,  1.  9.  Namby-pambying.  Acting  in  a  weakly,  sentimental, 
and  affected  manner. 

P.  74,  1.  20.  Uncle  Toby.  A  noted  character  and  the  real  hero  of 
Sterne's  "  Tristram  Shandy." 

P.  75, 1.  9.  We  can,  etc.  Of  course  "  we  "  refers  to  Jeanne.  Viv- 
idness of  description  is  secured  by  thus  causing  the  reader  to  assume 
the  person  of  Mademoiselle. 

P.  75, 1.  24.  Minden.  A  Prussian  town,  where,  in  1759,  Ferdi- 
nand, Duke  of  Brunswick,  general  of  Frederick  the  Great,  defeated 
the  French. 

P.  76, 1.  16.  Marquis  d' Autichamp.  Carlyle's  note :  He  is  the 
same  Marquis  d'Autichamp  who  was  to  "  relieve  Lyons,"  and  raise 
the  Siege  of  Lyons,  in  Autumn  1793,  but  could  not  do  it. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

P.  78, 1.  3.  D'Ormesson,  Joly  de  Fleury,  Calonne.  Each  was 
in  turn  comptroller-general  of  finances  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XVI., 
and  all  failed  to  manage  the  finances  in  a  competent  manner. 

P.  78,  1.  8.  Madame  of  France.  The  King's  step-sister.  Car- 
lyle's note:  "  See  Campan." 

P.  78, 1.  16.  Drop  hints.  Carlyle's  note :  Vie  de  Jeanne  de  La- 
motte,  etc.  icrite  par  elle-meme,  vol.  i. 


158  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

P.  79, 1.6.  Belie  Ima^e.  Madame  Campan  says:  "She  lodged 
at  the  Belle  Image,  a  very  middling,  ready-fumished  hotel." 

P.  79, 1.  20.  Elective  Franchises.  The  right  to  vote.  The  ex- 
tending of  the  elective  franchise  in  England  was  a  subject  of  much 
discussion  when  Carlyle  was  writing  this  work. 

P.  80, 1.  2.  Atropos,  The  third  sister  of  the  three  Fates.  She  cut 
the  thread  of  life  when  it  was  completely  spun.  See  "  Fates "  in 
dictionarj'. 

P.  80, 1.  10.  Tubalcain,  The  reputed  first  worker  in  metals. 
See  Genesis  iv.  22. 

P.  80, 1.  19.  Valetaille.  Valets;  the  body  of  servants,  taken  col- 
lectively. 

P.  81,  1.  6.  Reformed  Parliameuts.  England  at  this  time  was 
just  passing  through  a  period  of  agitation  for  parliamentary  reform ; 
that  is,  the  adjustment  of  the  inequalities  of  parliamentary  represen- 
tation.   The  Reform  Bill  passed  in  1832.    See  any  English  History. 

P.  81,  I.  26.  Hesperides  apples.  That  is,  golden  apples,  such  as 
grew  in  the  Garden  of  the  Hesperides.  Consult  some  manual  of 
mythology. 

P.  82,  1.  2.  Erasmus'  ape.  Erasmus,  noted  Dutch  scholar  (1467- 
1536). 

P.  82, 1.  9.  Barnt  cork,  etc.  Burnt  cork  is  used  in  the  "  make- 
up "  of  the  face  of  actors ;  brayed-resin  serves  to  counterfeit  lightning ; 
thunder-barrels  produce  thunder. 

P.  82, 1.15.  Prospero's  grotto.  See  "The  Tempest"  of  Shak- 
speare. 

P.  82,  1.  26.  Dronk  Christopher  Sly.  The  account  of  the  drunk- 
en tinker,  Christopher  Sly,  is  given  in  the  Induction  of  Shakspeare's 
"  Taming  of  the  Shrew."  He  is  found  dead  drunk  by  a  lord  and  his 
train,  and  put  into  bed.  When  he  awakes,  every  effort  is  made  to 
induce  him  to  believe  that  he  has  been  asleep  and  dreaming  for  fif- 
teen years,  and  that  he  is  not  Christopher  Sly,  but  a  lord.  He  finally 
believes  this,  and  the  "  Taming  of  the  Shrew "  is  played  for  his 
amusement.  "The  Sleeper  Awakened"  is  a  similar  story  in  the 
"  Arabian  Nights." 

P.  82, 1.  28.  The  Gadarenes  Swine.  The  allusion  to  the  cast- 
ing out  of  unclean  spirits  into  swine,  as  told  in  Mark  v.,  beginning, 
"  And  they  came  over  unto  the  other  side  of  the  sea  into  the  conntiy 
of  the  Ghtdarenes." 


NOTES.  169 

P.  83, 1. 1.  The  Quack  of  Quacks.  Cagliostro.  Hieroglyphic 
screens,  columbs,  etc.,  were  a  part  of  his  mummery.  A  columb  was 
"  a  lad  or  young  girl  wlio  is  in  the  state  of  innocence ;  the  Venera- 
ble communicates  to  him  the  power  he  would  have  had  before  the 
fall  of  man ;  which  power  consists  mainly  in  commanding  the  pure 
spirits ;  the  spirits  are  to  the  number  of  seven ;  it  is  said  they  sur- 
round the  throne ;  tlieir  names  are  Anael,  Michael,  Raphael,  Gabriel, 
Uriel,  Zobiachel,  Anachiel."    Quoted  by  Carlyle  in  his  "  Cagliostro." 

CHAPTER  VII. 

P.  84, 1.  6.  Queen's  Majesty  itself.  Carlyle's  note:  Compare 
Rohan's  M4moires  pour  (there  are  four  of  them),  in  the  Affaire  du 
Collier,  with  Lamotte's  four.  They  go  on  in  the  way  of  controversy, 
of  argument  and  response. 

P.  84, 1.  6.  Dost  thou  bring  with  thee,  etc.  When  Hamlet 
sees  his  father's  ghost  he  says  : 

"  Be  thou  a  spirit  of  health,  or  goblin  damned. 
Bring  with  thee  airs  from  heaven,  or  blasts  from  hell  —  " 

Hamlet,  Act  I.,  Scene  Iv. 

P.  84, 1.  12.  As  Ephraim  did,  etc.  "  Ephraim  feedeth  on  wind 
and  followeth  after  the  east  wind."    Hosea  xii.  1. 

P.  84, 1.  21.  Palace  Interviews.  Between  the  Queen  and  La- 
motte.  This  paragraph  is  not,  of  course,  a  recital  of  facts,  but  of 
what  Lamotte  represented  as  facts  to  Rohan. 

P.  85,  1.  3.  "Procession  of  the  Blue  Ribands."  Carlyle's 
note:  Lamotte's  Mimoires  Jxistificatifs  (London,  1788). 

P.  85, 1.  10.  On  the  21st  of  March.  The  Cardinal's  first  letter 
to  the  Queen  (as  he  supposed)  was  an  apology  for  his  past  misconduct 
and  an  attempt  to  excuse  it.  According  to  Georgel,  "some  days 
afterward  she  [Lamotte]  brought  an  answer  back  to  him  written  on  a 
small  sheet  of  gilt-edged  paper,  in  which  Marie  Antoinette,  whose 
handwriting  was  successfully  imitated,  was  made  to  say:  *I  have 
read  j-our  letter ;  I  am  rejoiced  to  find  you  not  guilty.  At  present  I 
am  not  able  to  grant  you  the  audience  you  desire.  When  circum- 
stances permit  you  shall  be  informed  of  it.  Remain  discreet.'  These 
few  words  caused  in  the  cardinal  a  delirium  of  satisfaction,  which  it 


160  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

would  be  difficult  to  describe.  Madame  de  Lamotte  from  that 
moment  was  his  tutelary  angel,  who  smoothed  for  him  the  path  of 
happiness,  and  from  that  moment  she  could  have  obtained  from 
him  anything  she  desired." 

P.  83,  1.  16.  Tutelary  conntess.  Carlyle's  note:  See  Georgel  : 
see  Lamotte's  Mimoires ;  in  her  Appendix  of  "  Documents  "  to  that 
volume,  certain  of  these  Letters  are  given. 

P.  85,  1.  19.  Extraordinary  chicken-bowels.  Roman  augurs 
"  drew  prognostics  "  from  the  vital  organs  of  fowls. 

P.  85,  1.  23.  Malicious  Polignacs.  The  Duchesse  de  Polignac 
was  Marie  Antoinette's  favorite  court-lady,  attendant,  and  adviser. 
Her  influence  was  bad,  and  she  was  cordially  hated  by  the  populace. 
Her  son,  the  Prince  de  Polignac,  was  at  the  head  of  the  last  ministry 
of  Charles  X.  "When  the  obnoxious  measures  of  Charles  led  to  the 
Revolution  of  July,  1830,  and  the  deposition  of  Charles,  Polignac 
attempted  to  escape,  but  was  arrested  and  imprisoned  in  the  Castle  of 
Ham,  an  ancient  and  celebrated  fortress  in  the  small  French  town 
of  that  name.    Polignac  was  released  in  1836,  and  died  in  1847. 

P.  85,  1.  29.    At  this  hour.    Carlyle's  note:  a.d.  1831. 

P.  86, 1.  11.  Tenterden  Steeple  and  Godwin  Sands.  Tenter- 
den,  a  market  town  of  Kent,  has  a  church  surmounted  by  a  high  and 
massive  tower.  The  name  Goodwin  (or  Godwin)  Sands  is  applied 
to  a  dangerous  bank  of  shifting  sands,  about  ten  miles  long  and  five  to 
six  miles  out  from  the  shore  of  Kent.  It  is  a  tradition  that  these 
sands  were  once  a  low  part  of  the  mainland,  fenced  from  the  sea  by 
a  wall,  and  that  either  some  stones  collected  for  strengthening  the 
wall,  or  the  funds  necessary  to  keep  the  wall  in  repair,  were  diverted 
to  the  building  of  the  tower  of  Tenterden  church.  As  a  result  the 
wall  gave  way  and  submerged  the  land,  thus  forming  Goodwin 
Sands.  Hence  the  saying  arose :  "Tenterden  steeple  was  the  cause 
of  the  Goodwin  Sands." 

P.  86,  1.  18.  Sunt  lachrymae,  etc.  There  are  tears  for  misfor- 
tunes, and  human  affairs  touch  the  heart.  Virgil's  -.Eneid,  Book  I., 
line  462. 

P.  86, 1.  26.  Fouquier  Tinville.  The  infamous  public  accuser  of 
the  French  Revolution. 

P.  87,  1.  1.  Has  mended.  Carlyle's  note:  "Weber:  Mimoires 
concemant  Marie-Antoinette  (London,  1809),  tome  iii.  notes,  106. 


NOTES.  161 

P.  87, 1.  13.    Treading  the  wine-press.     Isaiah  Ixiii.,  3. 

P.  87,  1.  29.  Saint-Bartholomews,  Jacqueries,  etc.  All  facts 
or  incidents  of  French  history  bearing  witness  to  the  extravagance, 
wickedness,  or  tyranny  of  the  French  monarchs.  See  any  history  of 
France  or  general  history.  The  gabelle  was  a  salt-tax.  The  king  had 
a  monopoly  of  the  sale  of  salt,  and  every  one  was  compelled  to  buy 
seven  pounds  yearly  for  each  member  of  the  family,  whether  it  was 
wanted  or  not.  It  is  said  eight  thousand  persons  were  imprisoned 
annually  for  breaking  this  law. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

P.  89, 1.  7.    Monsieur  le  Comte.     That  is,  M.  Lamotte. 

P.  89, 1. 12.  Desclos.  This  valet  Desclos,  it  appears,  was  the  only 
one  connected  with  the  queen's  household  that  Madame  Lamotte  had 
ever  met.  She  therefore  had  her  accomplice,  Villette,  impersonate 
Desclos  in  the  Necklace  matter. 

P.  89, 1.  22.    Ineffable  interview.    Carlyle's  note :  See  Georgel. 

P.  91,  1.  21.  Versailles  Treaty.  Sept.  3,  1783,  between  France, 
England,  and  Spain.  It  recognized  the  independence  of  the  United 
States,  and  surrendered  certain  English  territory  to  France  and  to 
Spain. 

P.  92,  1. 10.    Cadeau,    A  gift,  present,  complimentary  "  bonus." 

P.  92,  1.  17.  Heyduc.  Originally  an  inhabitant  of  the  Hunga- 
rian district  of  Hadjuc;  then  a  Hungarian  soldier  ;  then,  as  here,  a 
servant  in  Hungarian  uniform. 

P.  93,  1.  6.  So  bounteous,  etc.  Carlyle's  note  :  Georgel. 
Rohan's  four  Me'moires  pour ;  Lamotte's  four. 

P.  93, 1.  11.  The  Cloud-Compeller.  Jupiter,  who  visited  Danae 
in  a  shower  of  gold,  and  thus  became  the  father  of  Perseus. 

P.  93,  1.  30.  Parlement,  Grand  Chambre  and  TourneUe. 
Tlie  Parlement  of  France  was  the  king's  court  of  justice.  It  took 
cognizance  of  offences  against  the  king,  peers,  bishops,  and  higher 
dignitaries,  and  there  was  no  appeal  from  its  decisions.  These  terms 
all  have  reference  to  rooms  or  judicial  organizations  connected  with 
secret  and  unfair  inquiry  into  offences ;  star-chamber  proceedings. 


162  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

P.  95, 1.  12.    Armida  Islands.     Armida  is  a  beautiful  enchantress 

in  Tasso's  "  Jerusalem  Delivered."  Directed  by  Satan,  she  entices 
Rinaldo  to  an  enchanted  island,  from  which  blissful  but  sensual  sur- 
roundings he  is  finally  rescued. 

P.  95, 1.  22.  Descends  from  her  celestial  Zodiac.  Allusion  to 
Endymion,  a  beautiful  shepherd  youth,  whom  the  goddess  Diana 
visited  every  night  to  look  upon  him  as  he  lay  asleep  on  Mt.  Latmos. 

P.  97, 1. 12.    Peep  through  the  blanket,  etc. 

"  Come,  thick  night. 
And  pall  me  in  the  dunnest  smoke  of  hell, 
That  my  keen  knife  see  not  the  wound  it  makes. 
Nor  heaven  peep  through  the  blanket  of  the  dark, 
To  cry,  Hold,  Hold!" 

{Macbeth,  Act  I.,  scene  v.) 

P.  97, 1.  18.    Linon  moachet6.    Dotted  lawn. 

P.  98, 1.  5.  All  is  safe.  Carlyle's  note :  Compare  Georgel,  La- 
motte's  M^moires  Jiistijicatifs,  and  the  M^moires  pour  of  the  various 
parties,  especially  Gay  d'Oliva's.  Georgel  places  the  scene  in  the 
year  1785 ;  quite  wrong.  Lamotte's  "  royal  Autographs  "  (as  given  in 
the  Appendix  to  M^moires  Justificatifs)  seem  to  be  misdated  as  to  the 
day  of  the  month.    There  is  endless  confusion  of  dates. 

P.  98,  1.  6.  Ixion.  For  the  story  of  Ixion  see  any  work  on  my- 
thology. 

P.  98, 1.  21.  Highest  dalliances.  Carlyle's  note :  Lamotte's 
Mimoires  Justificatifs ;  Ms.  Songs  in  the  Affaire  du  Collier,  etc.,  etc. 
Nothing  can  exceed  the  brutality  of  these  things  (unfit  for  Print  or 
Pen) ;  which  nevertheless  found  believers,  —  increase  of  believers,  in 
the  public  exasperation ;  and  did  the  Queen,  say  all  her  historians, 
incalculable  damage. 

P.  98, 1.  28.  Philippe  £galit6.  Louis  Philippe  Joseph,  Duke  of 
Orleans.  Though  cousin  of  Louis  XVI.  he  is  believed  to  have  con- 
stantly intrigued  against  him.  When  the  Revolution  broke  out,  he 
sided  with  the  people  against  the  royalists,  and  received  the  title 
"Egalit^"  (equality).  He  voted  for  the  death  of  Louis  XVI.,  but 
during  the  Reign  of  Terror  was  himself  guillotined  in  1793.  His  son, 
Louis  Philippe,  after  vicissitudes  of  fortune,  at  the  "  Revolution  of 


NOTES.  163 

1830"  was  elected  "  King  of  the  French."    His  government  not  being 
satisfactory,  he  abdicated  in  1848.     His  death  took  place  in  1850. 

P.  99, 1.20.  Beaumarchais.  A  noted  French  dramatist  of  the 
time  of  Louis  XVI.  His  play  "  Le  Mariage  de  Figaro  "  had  a  great 
popularity  and  filled  the  theatre  night  after  night.  Carlyle's  note 
here  is:  Gay  d'Oliva's  First  Memoire  pour,  p.  37. 

CHAPTER  X. 

P.  100, 1.  2.  Partridge  the  Schoolmaster.  A  character  in  Field- 
ing's novel  "  Tom  Jones."  He  is  shrewd,  yet  simple  and  unsophis- 
ticated. His  simplicity  and  excitement  at  the  play-house  when 
viewing  Garrick's  Hamlet  are  highly  entertaining. 

P.  100, 1. 10.  Nisns  and  Euryalus.  Firm  friends  and  inseparable 
companions  in  Virgil's  "  JEneid." 

P.  100, 1. 15.  Through  the  thicket.  Carlyle's  note:  See  ia- 
motte ;  see  Gay  d'  Oliva. 

P.  101, 1.  6.  Don  Aranda.  An  able  and  powerful  Spanish  states- 
man of  the  eighteenth  century.  As  president  of  the  council  of  Castile, 
he  expelled  the  Jesuits  from  Spain. 

P.  101,  14.  Pope  Joan.  "  John  VIII.,"  said  to  have  been  pope 
853-855.  The  probably  fictitious  account  is,  that  an  English  girl  edu- 
cated at  Cologne  assumed  man's  attire  to  elope  with  a  monk.  Arriv- 
ing at  Rome,  she  earned  a  high  reputation  for  learning,  and  at  the 
death  of  Leo  IV.  became  pope. 

P.  101,  1.  15.  Arachne.  She  was  so  skilful  at  weaving  that  she 
challenged  Minerva  to  a  trial  of  skill.  Beaten  by  Minerva,  she  hanged 
herself,  and  the  goddess  turned  her  into  a  spider. 

P.  101, 1.22.  Tall,  blond  and  beautiful.  Carlyle's  note :  I  was 
then  presented  "  to  two  ladies,  one  of  whom  was  remarkable  for  the 
richness  of  her  shape :  she  had  blue  eyes  and  chestnut  hair  "  (Bette 
d'Etienville's  Second  Memoire  pour;  in  the  Suite  de  V Affaire  du 
Collier).  This  is  she  whom  Bette,  and  Bette's  advocate,  intended  the 
world  to  take  for  Gay  d'Oliva.  "The  other  is  of  middle  size:  dark 
eyes,  chestnut  hair,  white  complexion:  the  sound  of  her  voice  is 
agreeable;  she  speaks  perfectly  well,  and  with  no  less  faculty  than 
vivacity ; "  this  one  is  meant  for  Lamotte.  Oliva's  real  name  was 
Bssigny ;  the  Oliva  (Olisva,  anagram  of  Valois)  was  given  her  by 


164  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

Lamotte  along  with  the  title  of  Baroness  (Ms.  Note,  Affaire  du 
Collier). 

P.  101, 1.  28.  Palais-Royal.  A  famous  assemblage  of  buildings  in 
Paris,  consisting  of  the  old  palace  of  the  Orleans  family,  theatres, 
public  gardens,  shops,  restaurants,  etc. 

P.  103, 1.  18.    Terror.    That  is,  the  Reign  of  Terror. 

CHAPTER  XI. 

P.  104,  1.  8.  Queen's  bounty.  The  "alms"  advanced  by  Rohan 
to  Madame  Lamotte  for  the  queen,  which  alms  the  Madame  kept. 

P.  104,  1.  11.  Bend-sinister.  A  term  of  heraldry ;  a  band  or  stripe 
crossing  the  shield  diagonally  from  sinister  chief  (upper  left-hand 
comer)  to  dexter  base  (lower  right  corner). 

P.  104,  1.  16.    Worth  indeed  makes  the  man. 

"  Worth  makes  the  man,  and  want  of  it  the  fellow. 
The  rest  is  all  but  leather  and  prunella." 

Pope's  Essay  on  Man, 

P.  107, 1.  2.    Ua  bean  froid,  etc.    Georgel  writes:   "He  arrived 
most  unexpectedly  in  a  fine  January  frost." 
P.  108, 1.  28.    For  the  time  being.    Carlyle's  note :  Campan. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

P.  Ill,  1.  6.  It  was  said,  etc.  Queens  sign  only  with  their 
baptismal  names;  the  signature  should  have  been  simply  "Marie 
Antoinette." 

P.  Ill,  1.  21.    A  glass  door.    Carlyle's  note:  Georgel,  etc. 

P.  112,  1.  3.  De  par  la  reine.  In  the  Queen's  name;  by  the 
Queen's  authority. 

P.  112,  1.  16.  Horn  Gate.  There  were  two  gates  through  which 
dre^ns  visited  the  earth.  Through  the  Horn  gate  issued  true  dreams, 
and  through  the  Ivory  gate,  false.    See  Virgil's  .lEneid,  VI.,  893. 


NOTES.  166 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

P.  113, 1.  5.  "Caraffeand  four  candles."  More  of  Cagliostro's 
mummery.    A  caraffe  is  a  glass  water-bottle. 

P.  113,  1.  9.  To  the  glory  of  Monseigneur.  Carlyle's  note: 
Georgel,  etc. 

P.  114,1.5.  CEil-de-Beeuf.  "  Bull's  Eye."  A  famous  ante-cham- 
ber of  the  palace  at  Versailles  and  also  bedroom  of  Louis  XIV.,  so 
called  from  its  oval  window.    It  was  the  scene  of  many  intrigues. 

P.  114, 1.21.  Louvois,  Marquis  de  (1641-1691),  famous  war-minister 
of  Louis  XIV.  At  first  he  had  great  power  over  the  king,  but  after- 
ward lost  some  of  his  influence.  During  the  laying  waste  of  the 
Palatinate,  when  Louis  XIV.  forbade  the  burning  of  Treves,  Louvois 
replied  that  he  had  already  ordered  it  burnt  to  save  trouble  to  the 
king's  conscience.  "Whereupon  Louis,  in  anger,  seized  the  tongs 
from  the  chimney  and  would  have  struck  his  minister  had  not  Madame 
Maintenon  interfered. 

P.  114, 1. 23.  Maintenon,  Fran^oise  D'Aubign^,  Marquise  de.  One 
of  the  most  famous  personages  of  the  court  of  Louis  XIV.  At  first 
governess  to  Louis'  children,  she  became  his  friend  and  companion, 
and  after  the  death  of  the  queen  he  privately  married  her.  She  had 
great  influence  with  him  and  was  all-powerful  at  court.  She  gave 
much  attention  to  religion. 

P.  114, 1.  25.  IMarechaax  de  France.  Marshals  of  France.  In 
France  a  marshal  is  an  officer  of  the  highest  military  rank. 

P.  114, 1.  27.    Sound  like  thunder.    Carlyle's  note :  Campan. 

P.  115, 1.  12.    She  promised  it.    Carlyle's  note :  See  Georgel. 

P.  115,  1.  16.    La  Reine  vient.    The  Queen  is  coming. 

P.  116, 1.  1.  Mirza's  Vision.  The  "  Vision  of  Mirza  "  by  Addison 
is  the  subject  of  No.  159  of  the  Spectator.  Mirza  beholds  a  wonder- 
ful vision  of  the  tide  of  time,  of  men  crossing  the  bridge  of  human 
life,  and  of  the  ocean  of  eternity,  half  covered  with  clouds.  When 
Mirza  asked  the  genius  who  had  called  up  the  vision  to  let  him  pene- 
trate the  clouds,  the  vision  melted  away,  and  he  beheld  only  "the 
long  hollow  valley  of  Bagdat  with  oxen,  and  sheep,  and  camels  graz- 
ing upon  the  side  of  it." 


166  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

P.  117,  1.  5.  Hypocrisia.  The  Greek  word,  xn:oKp6ua,  or  h-noKpiaif, 
means  the  playing  of  a  part  on  tlie  stage ;  hence  our  derived  meaning 
of  hypocrisy. 

P.  117, 1.  6.  Mrs.  Facing-both-ways.  In  the  immortal  allegory 
of  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  Bunyan  relates  the  conversation  of  "  Chris- 
tian "  with  one  "  By-ends  "  from  the  town  of  "  Fair-speech."  When 
asked  the  name  of  his  kindred,  By-ends  replies,  "  Almost  the  Avhole 
town ;  and  in  particular  my  Lord  Turn-about,  my  Lord  Time-server, 
my  Lord  Fair-speech,  from  whose  ancestors  that  town  first  took  its 
name;  also  Mr.  Smooth-man,  Mr.  Facing-both-ways,  Mr.  Any-thing; 
and  the  parson  of  our  parish,  Mr.  Two-tongues,  was  my  mother's  own 
brother  by  father's  side." 

P.  119, 1.  4.  Minister  Breteail.  Minister  of  the  king's  household, 
a  personal  enemy  of  Rohan.  He  and  Rohan  had  been  rival  appli- 
cants for  the  Vienna  embassy,  and  Rohan  had  received  it. 

P.  119, 1.  14.  Gay  of  Warwick.  A  famous  Anglo-Danish  hero, 
wlio  performed  feats  of  wonderful  strength  and  renown  to  win  the 
fair  Felice. 

P.  119, 1.  24.    Starve  her,  etc.    Carlyle's  note :  See  Zamo^fe. 

P.  120,  1.  5.  In  deep  treaty,  etc.  Carlyle's  note:  Grey  lived  in 
No.  13  New  Bond  Street;  Jeffreys  in  Piccadilly  (Rohan's  yUmoire 
pour :  see  also  Count  de  Lamotte's  Narrative,  in  the  M^moires  Jvsti- 
ficatifs).    Rohan  says,  "  Jeffreys  bought  more  than  10,0001.  worth." 

P.  122, 1.  8.    We  read  with  curses.    Carlyle's  note:  See  Lamotte. 

P,  122,  1.  22.  Farmer-general  Saint  James.  A  rich  financier 
and  disciple  of  Cagliostro,  of  whom  the  Countess  and  Rohan  were 
hoping  to  borrow  enough  money  to  make  the  first  payment.  Saint 
James  was  a  "  new-rich  "  and  was  willing  to  do  anything  to  gain 
favor  at  court.  A  farmer-general  (French, /ermjer-(/e?ieraO  was  one 
who  purchased  the  right  to  collect  the  taxes  of  a  given  distribt. 
Taxes  are  still  "  farmed  out  "  in  Turkey. 

P.  122, 1.  29.    He  stands  one  day,  etc.    Carlyle's  note:  Campan. 

P.  123, 1.  10.  Return  from  them  swearing.  Carlyle's  note:  La- 
motte. 

P.  123, 1. 12.    Distraction  in  her  eyes.    Carlyle's  note:  Georgel. 


NOTES.  '  167 


CHAPTER  XV. 

P.  124, 1.  10.  On  the  serene  of  his,  etc.  Carlyle's  note :  This  is 
Bette  d'Etienville's description  of  liim:  "  A  handsome  man,  of  fifty; 
with  higli  complexion ;  hair  -white-gray,  and  the  front  of  the  liead 
bald:  of  high  stature;  carriage  noble  and  easy,  though  burdened 
with  a  certain  degree  of  corpulency ;  who,  I  never  doubted,  was  Mon- 
sieur de  Rohan."    (First  Mdmoire  pour.) 

P.  125, 1.  3.    Guy  Fawkes's  Plot.    See  any  history  of  England. 

P.  125,  1.  11.  Handed  him  a  slip  of  writing,  etc.  Carlyle's 
note:  Georgel. 

P.  125, 1,  29.  The  Bastille  was  the  old  state  prison  in  Paris,  espe- 
cially for  political  prisoners.  Its  storming  by  the  mob  of  Paris,  July 
14,  1789,  ushered  in  the  French  Revolution.  The  key  of  the  Bastille 
was  sent  to  President  "Washington  after  the  destruction  of  the  prison, 
and  may  be  seen  now  at  Mt.  Vernon.  Marquis  de  Launay  was  gov- 
ernor of  the  Bastille  at  the  time  of  the  assault,  and  was  killed  after 
the  capture.    See  Carlyle's  "  French  Revolution." 

CHAPTER  LAST. 

Missaest.  From  the  service  of  the  mass,  where  the  priest  says: 
Ite,  [ecdesia]  missa  est — "The  congregation  is  dismissed."  Here, 
our  task  is  done ;  finis. 

P.  126, 1.  21.  Precisely  with  3Iay  1786,  Carlyle's  note:  On  the 
31st  of  May  1786,  sentence  was  pronounced :  about  ten  at  night,  the 
Cardinal  got  out  of  the  Bastille;  large  mobs  hurrahing  round  him,  — 
out  of  spleen  to  the  Coiirt.     (See  Georc/el.) 

To  quote  further  from  the  account  of  the  trial :  "  At  length  a  little 
after  nine  in  the  evening,  the  decision  of  the  court  was  made  known 
as  follows:  — 

"  1st.  The  instrument  which  is  the  foundation  of  the  suit,  with  the 
approvals  and  annexed  signatures,  are  declared  forgeries,  and  falsely 
attributed  to  the  queen.  2d.  Lamotte,  being  in  contumacy,  is  con- 
demned to  the  galleys  for  life.  3d.  Madame  de  Lamotte  to  be 
whipped,  branded  on  the  two  shoulders  with  the  letter  V.,  and  shut 
up  in  I'Hopital  for  life.  4th.  Retaux  de  Villette  banished  the  king- 
dom for  life.    5th.  Mademoiselle  d'Oliva  discharged.    6th.  Caglios- 


168  •  THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

tro  acquitted.  7th.  The  cardinal  acquitted  of  all  suspicion.  The 
injurious  accusations  against  him,  contained  in  the  memorial  of 
Madame  de  Lamotte,  suppressed.  8th.  The  cardinal  is  allowed  to 
cause  the  judgment  of  the  court  to  be  printed." 

P.  127, 1.  17.  Circe-Megaera.  Enchantress-fury.  For  an  account 
of  the  enchantress  Circe,  see  Homer's  "  Odyssey."  Megaera  was 
one  of  the  Furies. 

P.  129,  1.  4.    All  men  are  liars.    Psalm  cxvi.  11. 

p.  130, 1.  28.  Traditionary  Prophecy.  Carlyle's  note :  Goethe 
mentions  it  (Italianische  Reise). 

P.  1.32,  1.  30.  Coq  d'Inde.  Turkey-cock;  used  as  a  term  of  mock- 
ery, or  derision. 

P.  133,  1.  11»  Bulls  ofBashan.  Bashan  was  a  country  of  Palestine 
noted  for  its  tall  men,  its  rich  pastures,  and  its  large  and  fat  cattle. 

P.  133,  1.  21.  Voleuse.  Feminine  of  the  French  voleur,  thief.  An 
account  of  the  trial  reads:  "  No  sooner  did  the  countess  perceive  the 
instruments  of  her  punishment,  than  she  seized  one  of  the  execution- 
ers by  the  collar,  and  bit  his  hands  in  such  a  manner  as  to  take  a 
piece  out ;  fell  upon  the  ground,  and  suffered  more  violent  convulsions 
than  ever.  It  was  necessary  to  tear  off  her  clothes  to  imprint  the  hot 
iron  upon  her  shoulders  as  well  as  they  could." 

P.  133, 1.  25.  Salp^tri^re.  Alms-house  and  mad-house  for  women, 
in  Paris.    Lamotte  escaped  after  ten  days'  confinement. 

P.  1.31,  1.6.  Tamblest  thon,  etc.  Carlj-le's  note:  The  English 
Translator  of  Lamotte's  Life  says,  she  fell  from  the  leads  of  her  house, 
nigh  the  Temple  of  Flora,  endeavoring  to  escape  seizure  for  debt, 
and  was  taken  up  so  much  hurt  that  she  died  in  consequence. 
Another  report  runs  that  she  was  flung  out  of  window,  as  in  the 
Cagliostric  text.  One  way  or  other  she  did  die,  on  the  23d  of  August 
1791  {Biographic  Unicerselle,  xxx.  287).  Where  the  "Temple  of 
Flora  "  was,  or  is,  one  knows  not. 

P.  134, 1.  30.  Bois  de  Boulogne.  A  famous  and  beautiful  park  of 
Paris,  covering  an  area  of  2250  acres ;  a  favorite  promenade  of  the 
Parisians. 

P.  135, 1.  5.  Villete-de-Retaux.  Carlyle's  note :  See  Georgel, 
and  Villette's  M^moire. 

P.  135, 1.  5.  Catchpoles  trepanned.  Have  the  constables  en- 
snared thee? 


NOTES.  169 

P.  135,  1. 10.    Castle  of  St.  Ansrelo.    At  Rome. 

P.  135,  1.  14.  Disconsolate  Oliva.  Cailyle's  note :  In  the  J/'aire 
du  Collier  is  this  Ms.  Note:  "Gay  d'Oliva,  a  common-girl  of  the 
Palais-Royal,  who  was  chosen  to  play  a  part  in  this  Business,  got 
married,  some  years  afterwards,  to  one  Beausire,  an  Ex-Noble  for- 
merly attached  to  the  d'Artois  Household.  In  ITiX),  he  was  Ca^jtain 
of  the  National  Guard  Company  of  tlie  Temple.  He  then  retired  to 
Choisy,  and  managed  to  be  named  Procureur  of  that  Commune :  ho 
finally  employed  himself  in  drawing-up  Lists  of  Proscription  in  the 
Luxembourg  Prison,  when  he  played  the  part  of  informer  (mouton). 
See  Tableaux  des  Prisons  de  Paris  sous  Robespierre."  These  details 
are  correct.  In  the  Memoires  sur  les  Prisons  (new  title  of  the  Book 
just  referred  to),  ii.  171,  we  find  this:  "  The  second  Denouncer  was 
Beausire,  an  Ex-Noble,  known  under  the  old  government  for  his 
intrigues.  To  give  an  idea  of  him,  it  is  enough  to  say  that  he  mar- 
ried the  d'Oliva,"  etc.,  as  in  the  Ms.  Note  already  given.  Finally  is 
added:  "He  was  the  main  spy  of  Boyenval,  who,  however,  said  that 
he  made  use  of  him;  but  that  Fouquief-Tinville  did  not  like  him, 
and  would  have  him  guillotined  in  good  time." 

P.  135,  1.  23.  TircAvoman  Campan  is  choosing,  Carlyle's  note : 
see  Campan. 

P.  136,  1.  1.  Pentagon  of  Rejuvenescence.  "  In  his  system  he 
promises  his  followers  to  conduct  them  to  perfection,  by  means  of  a 
physical  and  moral  regeneration  ;  ...  by  the  latter  (or  moral)  to  pro- 
cure them  a  Pentagon,  which  shall  restore  man  to  his  primitive  state 
of  innocence,  lost  by  original  sin."     Quoted  in  Carlyle's  Cagliostro. 

P.  136,  1.  3.  Empire  of  Imposture.  The  French  monarchy  with 
all  its  false  and  wicked  institutions.  The  allusion  is  to  the  French 
Revolution. 

P.  137, 1. 13.  Mourn  not,  O  Monseignenr.  Carlyle's  note :  Rohan 
was  elected  of  the  Constituent  Assembly;  and  even  got  a  compli- 
ment or  two  in  it,  as  Court-victim,  from  here  and  there  a  man  of 
weak  judgment.  He  was  one  of  the  first  who,  recalcitrating  against 
"  Civil  Constitution  of  the  Clergy,  "  etc.,  took  himself  across  the 
Rhine. 

P.  138, 1.  13.  Sieur  de  Lamotte.  Carlyle's  note:  See  Lamotte's 
Narrative  (Memoires  Justificatifs). 

Lamotte,  after  his  wife's  death,  had  returned  to  Paris ;  and  been 


170  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

arrested,  —  not  for  building  churches.  The  Sentence  of  the  old  Par- 
liament against  him,  in  regard  to  the  Necklace  Business,  he  gets 
annulled  by  the  new  Courts ;  but  is,  nevertheless,  "  retained  in  con- 
finement "  {Moniteur  Newspaper,  7tli  August  1792).  He  was  still  in 
Prison  at  the  time  the  September  Massacre  broke  out.  From  Maton 
de  la  Varenne  we  cite  the  following  grim  passage :  Maton  is  in  La 
Force  Prison. 

"  At  one  in  the  morning  "  (of  Monday,  September  3),  writes  Maton, 
"  the  grate  that  led  to  our  quarter  was  again  opened.  Four  men  in 
uniform,  holding  each  a  naked  sabre  and  blazing  torch,  mounted  to 
our  corridor ;  a  turnkey  showing  the  way ;  and  entered  a  room  close 
on  ours  to  investigate  a  box,  which  they  broke  open.  This  done  they 
halted  in  the  gallery ;  and  began  interrogating  one  Cuissa,  to  know 
where  Lamotte  was ;  who,  they  said,  under  pretext  of  finding  a  treas- 
ure, which  they  should  share  in,  had  swindled  one  of  them  out  of 
300  livres,  having  asked  him  to  dinner  for  tliat  purpose.  The 
wretched  Cuissa,  whom  they  had  in  their  power,  and  who  lost  his  life 
that  night,  answered,  all  trembling,  that  he  remembered  the  fact 
well,  but  could  not  say  what  had  become  of  the  prisoner.  Resolute 
to  find  this  Lamotte  and  confront  him  with  Cuissa,  they  ascended 
into  other  rooms,  and  made  farther  rummaging  there ;  but  apparently 
without  effect,  for  I  heard  them  say  to  one  another:  '  Come,  search 
among  the  corpses  then ;  for,  Xom  de  Dieu  !  we  must  know  what  is 
become  of  him.'"  (J/a  Resurrection,  par  Maton  de  la  Varenne; 
reprinted  in  the  Histoire  Parlementaire,  xviii.  142.)  —  Lamotte  lay  in 
the  Bicetre  Prison ;  but  had  got  out,  precisely  in  the  nick  of  time  — 
and  dived  beyond  soundings. 

P.  138, 1.  24.  Cribb's  fist.  Tom  Cribb  was  a  noted  English  pugil- 
ist of  the  early  part  of  the  19th  century. 

P.  138, 1.  27.  Life  of  Giuseppe  Balsamo.  A  "  Life  of  Joseph 
Balsamo,  known  as  Count  Cagliostro,"  was  written  in  Rome,  and 
purported  to  contain  certain  confessions  of  his. 


EJe  .Stutients'  <Stries  of  ISusltsl)  Classics* 


To  furnish  the  educational  public  with  well-edited  editions  of 
those  authors  used  in,  or  required  for  admission  to,  many  of 
the  colleges,  the  publishers  announce  this  new  series.  The  fol- 
lowing books  are  noio  ready : 

Coleridge's  Ancient  Mariner,  30  cts. 

A  Ballad  Book,  ....  54  . . 

Edited  by  Katharine  Lee  Bates,  Wellesley  College. 

Matthew  Arnold's  Sohrab  and  Bustum,  30  . . 

Webster's  First  Bnnker  Hill  Oration,  30  . . 

Edited  by  Louise  Manning  Hodgkins. 

Introduction  to  the  "Writings  of  John  Buskin,   .  54  . . 

Macaulay's  Essay  on  Lord  Clive,        ...  42  . . 
Edited  by  Vida  D.  Scudder,  Wellesley  College. 

George  Eliot's  Silas  Marner,  42  . . 

Scott's  Marmion,  42  . . 

Edited  by  Maby  Harriott  Norris,  Instructor,  New  York. 
Sir  Boger  de  Coverley  Papers  from  The  Spectator,     .  42  . . 

Edited  by  A.  S.  Roe,  Worcester,  Mass. 

Macaulay's  Second  Essay  on  the  Earl  of  Chatham,    .  42  . . 

Edited  by  W.  W.  Curtis,  High  School,  Pawtueket,  R.I. 

Johnson's  History  of  Basselas 42  . . 

Edited  by  Fred  N.  Scott,  University  of  Michigan. 

Joan  of  Arc  and  Other  Selections  from  De  Quincey,   .  42  . . 

Edited  by  Henry  H.  Belfield,  Chicago  Manual  Training  School. 

Carlyle's  The  Diamond  Necklace 42  . . 

Edited  by  W.  F.  Mozier,  High  School,  Ottawa,  111. 

Several  others  are  in  preparation,  and  all  are  substantially  bound 
in  cloth. 

LEAOH,  SHEWELL,  &  SANBOEN,  Publishers, 

BOSTON,  NEW  YORK,  and  CHICAGO. 


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